


Even If The Sky Collapses

by Sugaxcakes



Category: K-pop, SHINee, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Broken Families, Cancer, Character Death, Child Loss, Childhood Memories, Cooking Lessons, Crying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fatherhood, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Holding Hands, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pain, Slow Build, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-07-05 08:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 108,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugaxcakes/pseuds/Sugaxcakes
Summary: *Finished*Yoongi and Namjoon have been through damn near everything together but when Yoongi's daughter dies after a long battle with a chronic illness, Yoongi falls into a deep depression.Who will rescue him?Namjoon or SHINee's Almighty Key?





	1. Chemo

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just let it out,” Min Yoongi whispered to his daughter as she wretched into the bed pan in her hands. He ran a reassuring hand down her back. The bones there stuck out farther than he remembered but he tried not to think about it too much. 

 

_One thing at a time_ he reminded himself. 

 

The doctors had increased Jiyun’s medication dosage earlier in the week. Because she was losing weight so quickly and because of her extremely young age, the doctors initially miscalculated the proper dosage for her chemotherapy. It was only after several months that they noticed their mistake when her test results came back and showed that the tumor was, in fact, growing. After several evaluations, they concluded that Jiyun needed about 20% more medication than she had initially been receiving in order to have a fighting chance. 

 

Min Yoongi was feeling a lot of things lately but relief over the situation was not one of them. In addition to worrying that they had lost precious time in their fight for Jiyun’s life, he was also gravely concerned about just how incredibly sick she was now that she was receiving more medicine. It was paradoxical to him that the very thing saving her life seemed to be killing her faster than ever. He couldn’t stand it. Though he tried, endlessly, to lend her as much fatherly support as he could, seeing his child in so much pain made him physically ill. It was all he could do to save face and keep smiling for her. 

 

After Jiyun was finished getting sick, he took the pan away from her and tucked her back under the covers. Though the room was a bit on the warm side, she was shivering. He gently ran his hands up and down her arms to try and warm her, noting the greyness of her sweat dampened skin. She was right there in front of him, breathing, ragged as it was, still taking in air and housing a thrumming pulse but he could feel her slipping away from him more and more every day. 

 

He tossed the blonde hair out of his eyes and bit down, hard, on his lower lip, trying to remain as composed as possible. She was already half asleep but he couldn’t take any chances. He refused to let her see even a trace of worry in his expression. He needed to be strong for everyone, that was his job. If he was being honest, he was almost as terrified of Jiyun’s death as he was of letting anyone see that he was terrified. Though he was only 25, he was still _appa_. Not just to Jiyun but to Jiyun’s younger sister, Jia as well. Life was already hard enough for them with these extended hospital stays. He refused to make it harder for them by throwing his own emotions into the mix. No one could ever know how genuinely petrified he felt. 

 

Eventually, Jiyun was sound asleep. 

 

He unhinged his teeth from his lower lip and drew in a ragged sigh. This would be his only moment of weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title name taken from a famous Korean proverb: 하늘이 무너져도 솟아날 구멍이 있다, loosely meaning: Even if the sky collapses, there will still be holes for the light to come through.


	2. Chemo

He woke to a quiet symphony of sounds. Mechanical. Thrumming and beeping somewhere around the top of his head. He could tell, immediately, that something was wrong just by the way it hurt to open his eyes. The lids were heavier than normal, practically screaming in their refusal to budge open. 

 

Though his vision was narrow and blurry, he quickly gathered he was in the hospital wing. Everything was much whiter and more sterile than his barracks. And, though muted, he could still register the cleanliness in the air. Too clean. 

 

He tried to move his head but a jolt of pain shot down his spine in protest. He winced and his eyes snapped shut; refusing to open again. That one small movement acted as a flood gate and soon he could feel unbearable pain coursing through every part of his body. 

 

A scream of agony tore through the clean air and even after he heard hurried footsteps rushing toward him, it took longer than it should have to realize that the scream had come from his own throat. Eyes closed, shrouded in a darkness he couldn’t escape, his body writhed beneath the white cotton sheets tucked neatly around his broken body.

 

He could hear a chorus of voices swarming around him, some of them telling him to relax and stop moving, others trying to comfort him. None of it mattered. The pain was all he could feel. Hot and biting and tortuous as it spread and sank deep into his bones. 

 

Why am I here? He tried to ask. What’s happening to me? He wanted to know. But all that would come out of him were those terrible screams of agony. Until, quite suddenly, a gentle warmth spread through him and his whole body went limp. He tried to open his eyes once more but the heavy warmth that quickly replaced his pain, also dragged him back into a dreamless sleep. 

 

 

It was several days later before he was able to stay awake for more than a few minutes. But as soon as he found his voice, he unleashed a barrage of questions. 

 

_What am I doing here?_  
_How long was I asleep?_  
_Why am I in so much pain?_

 

The hospital staff tried to inform as best they could about the situation but, in truth, they looked disparaged to see that Kim Kibum himself did not know more about the incident. 

 

“You don’t remember anything?” His doctor asked him, a frown crisscrossed his face indicating that he already knew the answer before Key could respond.  


Key shook his head in frustration and immediately regretted it as pain shot through his torso. He couldn’t even remember he was injured, how was he supposed to remember who had done this to him?

 

“Well, amnesia in these situations isn’t unheard of. Your skull was fractured in the incident. You also have two broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken femur and a shattered vertebra. You will be able to walk again, thankfully, but I won’t lie to you, Kibum-sshi…”

 

“Key,” he mumbled. “Everyone calls me Key.” 

 

The doctor gave a small, compassionate smile as if looking upon the face of a petulant child. “Your recovery is going to be long and difficult. You were in a medically induced coma for eight days. It’s imperative that we get you up and moving as much as possible now that you are stabilized.”

 

He’d only been conscious for an hour but Key could no longer fathom a world beyond his hospital bed. Even through the morphine coursing in his veins, the pain was nearly unbearable. He was convinced he might completely shatter if the sheets of his bed weren’t holding him together. 

 

He noticed that the doctor was looking at him, unblinkingly, as if trying to assess more than his health. “You really don’t know who did this?” he asked once more.

 

Key felt the hot press of tears gather in his chest but he was able to swallow them away. “No.”

 

“You are lucky to be alive. If you remember anything at all, tell us right away. Whoever did this to you needs to be punished. We can’t afford to have soldiers misrepresenting our nation this way.” 

 

Key could tell the doctor wasn’t fully convinced that he truly did not know anything. The frustration in his chest swelled again and this time he couldn’t stop the few tears that leaked from his eyes and onto his lap. 

 

_I really don’t know_. He wanted to say it emphatically but for some reason he couldn’t make it come out. Maybe he wasn’t ready to admit he was even more helpless than he looked. 

 

The doctor put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Even the light touch was almost too much for him but he refused to bulk at the pain. He was already furious with himself for crying. 

 

“You were a great soldier. You did your job well. The only job we are asking you to do now is to get better.”

 

The doctor left the room and a nurse hung back to help him get resituated on his bed. She didn’t say a word as she reinfused his IV line and set a fresh cup of water in front of him. She turned off the lights and made her way out.

 

In the cool darkness of his room, it all began to sink in. Just four months in to his mandatory military service and he was already being relived of his duties. Over this? Surely he could recover and go back to normal. Surely they wouldn’t let him face the societal scrutiny of an early release over something this out of his control. He tried to comfort himself with these hollow reassurances but the morphine won before he could feel truly at peace.


	3. Cafeteria

“Good, now bring your other leg forward,” Key’s physical therapist sat on the other end of a long blue mat, knees tucked underneath her small frame, as she beckoned him forward with her hands. 

 

His leg cast had been off for almost 2 weeks and the doctors were still baffled as to why he couldn’t put any pressure on it. He’d even had a few infections around the surgical wounds that came and went, adding to the pain and set-backs. To say his therapy sessions had been frustrating was putting it mildly. Every day, for hours at a time, his leg had been poked and prodded and massaged in every excruciating direction the sadistic staff could think in the hope of loosening him up but it was to no avail. He was in constant pain and was no closer to regaining his ability to walk without the aid of crutches. Frustrated and defeated, he dreaded making the trip from his apartment to the hospital every morning. Since he’d been discharged, the temptation to skip his sessions had been almost too much to resist.

 

“C’mon. Today could be the day it changes. Just try one step,” she coaxed him.

 

He gave the therapist a dubious look. “I really don’t think I can." 

 

“Just ease some pressure onto it, slowly.” 

 

Key regripped the metal railings at either of his sides and did as he was instructed, too exhausted to fight. Almost as soon as his leg felt the pull of his weight, a white-hot burst of pain surged up his side. He recoiled and nearly lost his grip on the support bars. 

 

“Fuck!” He shouted so loudly that the other patients turned around to stare. He hid his face in his arm as he willed himself back to composure.  
He felt a set of hands wrap around his shoulders. “It’s okay. This all takes time. Rome wasn’t built in a day and that leg of yours isn’t going to rebuild itself in a day either.”

 

“Is it supposed to hurt this much, still? It’s been almost 8 weeks since my femur was broken. They said it should be healed by now.” He straightened himself back up and readied his leg for another try. 

 

“You transferred here from the military hospital, right?” She cocked her head to the side, as if accusing him.

 

“Yeah…so?”

 

She nodded to herself as if she had just made a miraculous discovery. “Forget I asked,” a smile flashed across her pretty face and she walked back to her spot on the other end of the mat.

 

“What’s wrong with the military hospital?” Key demanded, though, in his heart he knew. They had messed up his surgery. He wasn't ready to admit as much as the thought of having it corrected scared him senseless. 

 

She looked around to make sure none of the other physical therapists were looking their way, then closed the gap between them before lowering her voice. “Look, I’m not supposed to say anything but I empathize with you…we all do…”

 

Key followed her gaze around the room at the other therapists, many of whom he had already worked with. 

 

“What they won’t tell you is that it’s common knowledge that the doctors at the military hospital are barely qualified to look after dogs, let alone soldiers. They coast off the reputation and protection afforded to them by the government and it’s at the expense of the men keeping our country safe. I heard some of them didn’t even finish medical school. It’s sickening.”

 

Key felt his heart do a little wallop in his chest. “That can’t be true. They saved my life…if it weren’t for them I’d…” It was true. He couldn't even find the motivation to keep denying it. Still, he was terrified to find out just how serious the implications were.

 

“You’re still in pain?” she cut him off.

 

Key looked down at his leg, the nerves inside radiated with agonizing heat. He nodded, frustrated. He briefly considered telling her the full extent of what was really going on with his leg. Earlier that morning, he’d woken to a hideous mess of blood and other secretions pooling up along his surgical scars which also weren’t healing. Another infection. He’d cleaned himself up well enough but he could envision a second episode if he put too much pressure on his leg. He already felt pathetic and scared enough as it was. He didn’t want to add to his helplessness.

 

“The pain you’re experiencing is not normal. Whoever reset your leg and performed the surgery probably didn’t follow protocol. You have a slight curvature in your right knee which could indicate that the screws were not inserted properly. I can’t believe no one caught that before me but I’ve already made a note in your file. Dr. Choi will probably want to have a look at this point. It will be his decision but you could be looking at another surgery.”

 

Key’s mouth fell open slightly. He feared this suggestion would eventually be brought up but to hear it out loud, from a medical professional was almost more than he could take. Another surgery? More time spent strapped to a hospital bed, helpless and stir crazy? More pain? The very thought made him nauseous. He blinked away the familiar sting of tears in his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He wished he could make it one day…one hour…without feeling completely overwhelmed by his emotions. Everything from breathing to eating to trying to wash up on his own had been an arduous task for two full months and his level of frustration with it all was coming to a head. He used to wish for normalcy but as the days rolled on without any meaningful recovery, he was beginning to wish for a swift end. 

 

“I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have said anything. I just think there’s no real point in hiding this information from patients.”

 

“No, I understand. Thank you.” He sniffled and reached for his crutches. “I want to end our session for the day.”

 

She didn’t say anything as he re-hooked the straps of his face mask over his ears and pulled his hood over his head. Though his days in SHINee were long over, he still found himself flogged with attention (both good and bad) when he managed to leave his apartment, especially since the incident. People had no shame in coming up to him to ask, flat out, what happened that night, as if it directly concerned them. Bits and pieces of the whole thing were slowly coming back to him every day and the more in focus they became, the more he tried to push them away. It was one thing to be noticed, it was a completely different thing to be reminded of one of the worst experiences of his life. If hiding behind a face mask and a drawn hood could combat that in anyway, Key was not about to head out into any public space without them. Even in the hospital.

 

Key gave the therapist a small bow before leaving. She didn’t try to stop him as he made his way out of the room. 

 

Though firmly 27-years-old, Key was desperately afraid of going back to his apartment so early. His mother had taken time off work to care for him after the incident and she was forever nagging him about attending his therapy sessions (both physical and mental). That was already unbearable enough. He couldn’t imagine the wrath he would face if she found out he was ditching. He just counted this as one of the many ways he had lost his independence. Unsure where he should or even could go considering his pain level, which was increasing by the second, he decided to head down to the cafeteria.

 

By the time he made it there, his leg was in so much pain that he felt as if it might sear itself right off his own body. He plopped down at a table without giving any attention at all as to what or even _who_ might be nearby. 

 

“Ouch!” he heard a voice call out from somewhere. He was so delirious with pain that he genuinely had to think for a moment if the voice was his own but before he could be sure, he felt a giant upheaval from underneath his legs.

 

In a split second, he found himself crashing into the floor, broken bones screaming out in pain as they connected with the cold, hard tiles. His crutches went end over end in separate directions, one landing on top of his head as if to add insult to injury. Stunned, he couldn’t move a single muscle. 

 

“Jesus…fuck…I’m so fucking sorry!” the same voice called out. 

 

Key’s ears were ringing slightly and the lights on the ceiling above him went in and out of focus to the beat of his throbbing bones. He looked around for the owner of the voice, fully intent on using the last bit of his energy to fight back if he needed to. 

 

Suddenly, an unfamiliar face appeared overhead. A young man with dyed blonde hair and sharp eyes came into focus. He had multiple piercings in either of his ears which caught the pulsing light in a blinding sparkle. His skin was so white, Key’s faulty vision almost lost him in the equally white ceiling above their heads. He extended a hand to Key. “I didn’t mean to push you like that. It’s just…usually these chairs are meant for one person at a time. I thought almost everyone got the memo…”

 

Key couldn’t say a single thing. His shock became two-fold. As he continued to stare into the eyes of the man, he could feel a new sort of pain; a pain he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was a lilting excitement mixed with a desperation he couldn’t quite touch. This stranger, leaning just centimeters from his face, was one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen. Something he thought had died a long time ago, seemed to roar back to life inside his chest. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. He didn’t believe in love at all, really, but there was something about this man that was immediately intoxicating to him. 

 

The man didn’t wait for Key to respond. He gently helped him to his feet and replaced the crutches underneath his arms. 

 

Before Key could fully appreciate the physical contact, it was over. The man stepped away but still searched Key’s gaze for signs of life.  
“What…? So you sit on complete strangers’ laps and you don’t talk? I didn’t know this place had a psych ward.” 

 

Key knew it was supposed to be a joke. Despite everything, he still knew what humor was. Still, he didn’t laugh. All he could do was stare in stunned silence. “Okay…well…uhm…it was nice meeting you?” The man shrugged his shoulders and collected his coffee cup off the table. 

 

Before Key’s mouth was ready, he spat out a garble of words that sounded like “Pwait!” (please wait...) 

 

The man turned to meet Key’s eyes, which were the only thing visible as the fall had, magically, not disturbed his hood or his mask. Again, Key’s heart stood on end as the man’s sharp, quick eyes roved over him. 

 

Key suddenly lost the nerve to say anything at all but instead of continuing to walk away, the man closed the gap between them. As he got closer, Key realized that the cool sharpness within them had melted into wide-eyed terror. “Your leg!” He shouted in surprise. 

 

Key looked down at his sweatpants and had to do a double take. Blood had soaked through the grey material to such an extent that it was nearly dripping onto the floor. Key bulked at the sight and toppled backward, thankfully into a chair, as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. 

 

The man took a deep breath and propped Key up in the chair so he wouldn’t slide off. “It’s okay. I’m going to go find someone who can help you, just don’t move, okay?” The man’s voice was so calm and collected that any trace of panic Key might have felt immediately left him.  
Key gave the man a nod.

 

Within seconds, he saw a café staff worker darting off down the hall. The man returned to his side, slightly winded but looking calm as ever. “Is it okay if I wait with you?” he asked.

 

Key nodded again. He’d never been so lost for words in his entire life.

 

“Did I do this to you?” the man asked in a quiet, terrified voice. 

 

Key finally found words. “No. I had a botched surgery a few months ago…this is my fault for letting it go so long…or the doctors' fault for not knowing what the hell they doing…”

How had it been so easy to admit this? He was genuinely shocked at his own behavior.

 

The man looked at him, not with pity, as many people did, but with understanding. Key could tell the man wanted to say something but was stopping himself. He really was gorgeous, even more so than Key had originally thought. Under better lighting and through clearer vision, he took note of the man’s delicate jawline, the hard gleam in his eyes, the pout in his full lips. But, beautiful as he was, he looked utterly exhausted. 

 

“Here, keep your leg elevated a little more,” the man instructed, perhaps aware that Key was still staring and looking for a distraction. He carefully propped Key’s leg up with a pad of napkins from the dispenser on the side of the table. 

 

Under his touch, nothing hurt. 

 

Eventually, two nurses came down the hall, out of breath, with the café worker leading the charge. They all looked at the bloody scene for a moment before one of the nurses brought forth a wheelchair and the other helped Key into it. 

 

The man watched the whole thing intently, as if his peace of mind weren’t possible until he saw that Key was in capable hands. What an anomaly this stranger was. How was he so effortlessly able to provide him with so much comfort despite only knowing him for five minutes? Perhaps is was that fated "love at first sight" thing. Perhaps the man was a guardian angel of some sort, what with his white skin and the way the light gleamed off the sharp angles of his figure.

 

“Thank you…uhm…”

 

“Min Yoongi,” the man offered his hand politely to Key. "But please, don't thank me. I throttled you off my lap. Min Yoongi is my real name, so if you decide you'd rather file a lawsuit..." 

 

Key took Min Yoongi's warm, firm hand into his own and let out a genuine burst of laughter. He felt a powerful warmth as the familiar sensation of happiness spread across his chest and around his back. Where he had once been in desperate pain not ten minutes earlier, he marveled at how he couldn’t feel a single twinge of discomfort anywhere in his body. 


	4. Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who are reading this :) It really means a lot to me. I have had this idea for a long time but I was too afraid to post it anywhere.
> 
> Also, in the last chapter I mistakenly wrote that Key's mom had come from Daegu. That was a typo as this story takes place in Daegu so she would have already been there lol. I edited it out for clarity. 
> 
> In case it's unclear, Daegu is the setting because both Key and Suga are from this area (and they are both my biases). I think they exude (in very different ways, mind you) a similar type of stoicism that is extremely attractive and probably due to their upbringing in this part of Korea. 
> 
> Also, yay!!! Namjoon is making his first appearance in this chapter! I hope you enjoy!

“Why are you back up here? I told you to go get something to eat. Doctor’s orders.”

 

Yoongi looked sheepishly at the woman who intercepted him just outside of his daughter’s hospital room door. “I got coffee,” he pointed out as he held up the Styrofoam cup in his hand. 

 

Dr. Kim huffed a sigh. “You’re just like Namjoon. You both have the bad habit of only hearing what you want to hear. It’s no wonder why you get along so well.”

 

“Trust me, I still hear a lot of things I don’t want to hear when it comes to your son. If I really had selective hearing, he’d be the first person I’d use it on.”

 

“He is kind of bossy,” she admitted.

 

“It’s no wonder you two get along…” Yoongi mumbled. 

 

Dr. Kim eyed him with faux anger and Yoongi playfully darted away from her reach, shielding himself with the coffee cup. Anyone else would have rightfully slapped him up side the head for his loose tongue, but the Kim family had all but officially adopted Yoongi when he was still a teenager. They were used to, if not fond of, his snarky sense of humor and had come to depend on it when levity was needed.

 

Dr. Kim dropped the act and gave him a rueful smile. “She’s fine, Yoongi. She’s just sleeping. You should take advantage of the calm and get some fresh air…take a nap yourself…ingest something that isn’t just…bean water.” 

 

Yoongi sighed and swirled around the nearly full cup of coffee in his hands. He knew she was right but after what had just happened to him in the cafeteria, he felt completely inept to explore the world away from Jiyun’s bedside. “You make it sound so easy but I almost killed a guy downstairs just now,” he laughed more to himself than to Dr. Kim. 

 

“What?!”

 

He gave her a small smirk. “Yeah, imagine that. The first time I leave Jiyun’s side I practically throw this complete stranger halfway across the room. And, yes, before you ask, he was already severely injured before I launched him. The bleeding that occurred afterward…it’s still up for debate who caused that. Could have been there before my part. I’m telling you my social skills are not what they used to be…though he did sit on my lap without introducing himself so am I really the bad guy here?”

 

Yoongi did feel bad about what had happened with the man downstairs. Despite his surly demeanor and dark humor, his goal in life was not to inflict harm. He decided that he would make it a priority to check on him if he got the chance but suddenly realized the man didn’t tell him his name before they wheeled him off. He hadn’t even gotten a good look at his face as he’d been shrouded in a face mask and oversized hoodie. Clearly a disguise. With Yoongi’s luck the man was probably someone important and powerful who would seek money for the damage. He’d always expected he’d get mixed up in some kind of legal trouble but not like this.

 

“Okay,” Dr. Kim said hesitantly. Yoongi could tell she was trying to assess rather or not he’d finally gone off the deep end. “I don’t know if I should take you seriously but maybe you were right. Maybe you shouldn’t try going back out into “the real world” just yet.”

 

“Why would I make up a story like that?” Yoongi grumbled. He decided to toss his coffee into the trash can just beside Jiyun’s door so he could focus on something else. “I’m telling you Dr. Kim, it’s a sign that the only place I belong right now is in that room.” He jabbed a finger toward the door way. 

 

Dr. Kim’s smile twisted into a look of pity. “You’re stubborn like Namjoon too. Sometimes I wonder if you aren’t actually brothers.” She sighed and shuffled some papers in her hands. “As much as I’d love to play favorites and boss you around all day, I have my own patients to attend to. Dr. Lim should be by soon to run a few more tests on Jiyun. She’s in capable hands, I promise.”

 

Yoongi gave her a half smile and slowly backed into Jiyun’s room with a small wave goodbye. Though Dr. Kim wasn’t blood related to Jiyun, her affiliation with the child was considered far too intimate for the hospital to allow her to take Jiyun on as a patient. Dr. Kim was like a grandmother to Jiyun and there was a great concern that the emotional complexity of caring for her would interfere with her job as a physician. Instead, Dr. Lim, a severe looking man with hard lines in his face and forehead and rough hands had been assigned as her leading physician. Jiyun didn’t like him at all and Yoongi was convinced that he was siphoning the life out of his daughter just by the way he looked at her. It was just an added stress to the whole situation. 

 

As Dr. Kim had promised, Jiyun was sound asleep in her bed. Yoongi pulled up his usual chair beside her and settled in. It briefly registered to him how alarmingly natural it felt to sit in that chair. It was as if he’d never known another life outside of that space. They’d been at the hospital for nearly three months now with only brief weekends away to break up the time. Though Yoongi and his daughters had their own apartment, the three of them hardly ever spent time there. The hospital was home to Yoongi and Jiyun now. As for Jia, Yoongi’s younger daughter, if she wasn’t visiting the hospital she was living full time with the Kim’s. The only reason Yoongi kept his apartment was to get some damn privacy. He didn’t fall apart often but when he did, it was messy and drawn out and definitely not something he wanted Jia or Namjoon and his entire family to witness. Everyone was concerned for him and, for the most part, he let them fuss over little things like how much he ate or if he was getting enough sleep. When it came to the more serious aspects, like his mental health, however, the door was firmly closed to everyone.  
Dr. Kim agreed that Yoongi should have his own place and Yoongi was convinced that the apartment was the barrier between her lovingly looking after him and literally nagging him to death. It was nice though, having Namjoon’s family around as his own biological one had swiftly disowned him once he got Jiyun’s mother, Sunhee pregnant. 

 

Yoongi shook his head as if to reset it. He couldn’t think about Sunhee. Not now. He’d have to pick Jia up from school in a few hours and he wanted to look as normal as possible for his next trip out into the real world. Bringing up old memories of his ex-wife was not the way to do that. Instead, he sunk further into the chair and watched Jiyun taking in slow, slumbered breaths. She had turned nine years old in this very hospital room just two months earlier. 

 

She spent the day with an IV shunt jammed in her arm and a brutal round of chemo coursing through her tiny body. Everyone had tried to make it a nice day for her, regardless. Balloons, cake, presents, the whole thing. Jiyun seemed happy, for a while, at least, and it was enough to keep Yoongi separated from his ever-growing anger about the whole situation. It wasn’t fair that his daughter, so selfishly brought into this world when he was just a dumb, teenage drop-out, was now suffering in such a horrendous way. This was his fault. Her whole life and everything that had gone wrong in it was his own stupid fault. Watching her try to enjoy her birthday in this place, in her condition, was so twisted and sadistic he could hardly believe it was his reality. On that day, he realized how much he hated himself; how much he didn’t even deserve to feel the anger that roiled inside of him. He had only himself to blame. A new level of grief and anger formed within him that day and nothing had been the same since. He felt, more than ever, that he needed to be punished; to sacrifice himself for her chance at health. 

 

Some color had returned to her complexion in the last few days, sallow grey now slowly faded into a soft white on the apples of her slender cheeks. She was still far too thin beneath her knitted wool cap and hospital gown, but he took heart in the fact that she had been able to keep both breakfast and lunch down that day. Also, her breathing was even smoother than it had been just the week before, she was no longer gasping for air. It was the little shades of change that heartened him and he had learned to key into every single one. He’d been reminded, more than once, that any change in her condition, good or bad, could have outstanding ramifications. He needed to be alert at all times in order to protect her life and his sanity. 

 

Yoongi had been so lost in his thoughts about the past that he had become completely unaware of his surroundings. When a giant set of hands suddenly clamped down on his shoulders, he let out an audible scream. 

 

Kim Namjoon let out a bolt of laughter, eyes shut in pure amusement as he pointed gormlessly at Yoongi who was clutching his chest in shock.  
“I told you not to do that!” He huffed, sailing a closed fist into Namjoon’s thigh. 

 

Namjoon hiccupped back another round of laughter and wiped fake tears from his eyes for dramatic effect. “C’mon, let me have a little fun. I’ve been studying all day. I’m bored.” Namjoon flopped down into the other chair next to Yoongi and turned his attention to the sleeping Jiyun. 

 

“How’s she doing today?” he asked warmly.

 

Yoongi sighed. “Better, I think.”

 

Namjoon gave a pressed smile. The worry was apparent in his eyes. Yoongi knew Namjoon couldn’t see what he saw in the way of her improvement. He didn’t expect him to. She wasn’t his child. He loved her like she was, though, and that’s all that mattered. 

 

“How about you? Did you eat today?”

 

“Yes,” he answered automatically.

 

“You’re lying.”

 

“I’m sick of that question,” Yoongi grumbled. “What does it matter if I ate anything? I could eat every damn whale in the ocean and you and your mother would still nag me about something.”

 

“It’s called love, you idiot. We love you and we want you to take care of yourself. You’re not going to be any good for Jiyun or Jia if you don’t take care of yourself too.”

 

“Please, spare me this lecture. I already got one from your mom about ten minutes ago. Do you guys coordinate these talks or something?”

 

“Yoongi. I’m serious. You’re starting to look like the one who needs a hospital bed.” The tone in Namjoon’s voice was enough to draw Yoongi’s attention. He could admit that his clothes were all a bit baggier on him lately and when he stood up in the cafeteria earlier he had felt pretty light headed, though he told himself it was from all the commotion and blood. As for sleep…well…he couldn’t very well lie about that. Namjoon was the one who sat with him on countless nights, witnessing the insomnia firsthand. 

 

He locked eyes with his best friend. “I’m fine…okay?” 

 

“No. Not okay. You made friends with the wrong family. 50% of us are doctors and 100% of us care about you.”

In addition to Namjoon's mom acting as head of the Oncology ward, Namjoon's father also happened to own the hospital. Though he had given up his practice years earlier to focus on the PR side of things, Mr. Kim was still prone to correcting people when they failed to refer to him as Dr. Kim. With so many doctors in the family, and soon to be two more, it all got a bit confusing sometimes.

 

“Okay, wow, first of all, stop with all the numbers. It looks like we’re both caught up in some unhealthy habits. How long did you say you were studying for? And, also, you and Kyungmin aren’t doctors yet. There’s still time for you to be slackers, like me, so don’t get all high and mighty just yet.”

 

Namjoon glowered at him. “It’s not up for discussion. I’m taking you out of this hospital and I’m going to watch you eat a damn meal in the damn sunshine. After that, you’re going to go to your place and take a nap.” 

 

“Yeah, sounds great,” Yoongi retorted sarcastically. “But what about Jia? I have two kids and they both need me so…”

 

Namjoon let out a groan of frustration as he pulled his hands down his face. “That’s exactly my point you stubborn cow! We sorted it all out. This in an intervention. Kyungmin will pick her up since she’s home for the winter holidays now. Dad is making everyone dinner, which you will eat after your nap, and mom is going to look after Jiyun.”

 

“So I guess that means your job is to babysit me.”

 

“You got it,” Namjoon flashed him a giant, toothy smile. 

 

Yoongi gave one more, long, lonely look at his daughter. Fear began to settle into him as he realized Namjoon was right. What good was he to her if he didn’t at least try to look after himself, even if he didn’t deserve it? Leaving her, for any amount of time, however, was a form of physical torture. 

 

He felt Namjoon rub a few, slow circles into his back before helping him to his feet. Once they were standing, Namjoon pulled Yoongi into a bear hug and gently swayed him back and forth. 

 

“I. Can’t. Breathe.” Yoongi said muffled into Namjoon’s shirt. 

 

“Shhh, you need this. Just let me love you,” he laughed into Yoongi’s hair. 

 

“Gross,” Yoongi whined, trying to squirm away.

 

Namjoon just held him tighter and, after a moment, Yoongi gave in. He really did need that hug.


	5. Attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning: mentions of a violent physical attack and flashbacks included in this chapter. It will come up a lot more through out the story so if it's upsetting for you please take note. I think I mentioned this before but this is my first time posting fan fiction so I'm trying to be extremely cautious about giving warnings to anyone who might be triggered by the things I write about. Anyway...hopefully this chapter gives a bit more insight into what Key is going through.

After the cafeteria incident, his doctor decided it was necessary to correct the surgery that the military doctors had gotten so terribly wrong. Everyone on his medical team was horrified to see just how damaged Key’s leg really was. The military doctor who performed the surgery had placed the screws at such an askew slant that instead of healing straight, Key’s leg twisted out at an unnatural angle. Dr. Choi, his Daegu physician, hadn’t come across medical work that sloppy in his entire career. It seemed to him that the uneven way the leg had been operated on might have even been purposeful. He, of course, did not mention his suspicions to Key as the aftercare instructions were already weighty enough. 

 

“I won’t lie to you,” Dr. Choi began grimly, “you may never walk normally again, and your pain levels could remain relatively high even with aggressive physical therapy. Now, that’s not an excuse to skip your sessions. If you do not do the rehab work for your leg, we could be looking at more surgeries and, in a worst-case scenario, amputation. In comparison, some chronic pain is really your best route. I’ve written you a prescription for some very effective painkillers to take the edge off. If you take them as prescribed and you attend all your therapy sessions, you will be in good shape.” 

 

Key took the prescription paper and read the instructions carefully. “Half a pill every six hours?” he asked. Desperation filled his entire body. The medical grade morphine from the hospital still hadn’t completely worn off yet, and even that was barely masking the bone shattering pain that raced up his leg. 

 

“Yes. This particular medication is relatively new on the market and extremely powerful. My recommendation is to start slowly to see how it affects you. You will experience some drowsiness and nausea as a side effect, but your pain will be manageable. I want to have a follow-up exam with you in about two weeks.”

 

“I guess that means I’m free to leave then?” he asked, stone-faced.

 

Dr. Choi gave him a small smile and nodded, pushing back from his desk. He helped Key with the door but stopped him before he could get too far into the hallway. “Have you been able to make any progress with Dr. Ko?” He was referring to Key’s psychiatrist. 

 

Key nodded, reflexively, but only because he thought that was the answer Dr. Choi was looking for. In reality, the therapy sessions with Dr. Ko had come to a complete stand still. For a while, he was having clear flashbacks of that night. Sudden snapshots of faces, covered in some mud-like substance, shouting down at him, bathed in artificial light, cropped up in his mind’s eye. If he really forced himself to remember, he could almost recognize one or two of them. But he couldn’t hear what their mouths were shouting, and he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten underneath them. Trying to recall anything more than this took energy he just didn’t have. 

 

Dr. Choi looked like he was waiting for Key to elaborate but decided to be professional and dropped the conversation. “Right, well, keep up the hard work. If you have any questions, you have my number.” 

 

Key’s mom was waiting for him in the lobby, already on her feet as she saw him come around the corner on his crutches. 

 

“We need to leave, _now_.” Key was caught off guard by the hushed and hurried tone of her voice. In the month that she had practically moved in with him, he had gotten used to her dragging him around in whichever whimsical direction she thought was best. This felt different.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

It was subtle but he caught the look she gave over his shoulder at the television hanging from the wall. Key glanced up as well. The news was on but all he could see were images of a giant pot hole in the middle of some road. Then, suddenly, it hit him. There must have been something about him; the incident circulating in the nightly news. He felt his heart plummet to his sacrum as his mind kicked up a whirlwind of thoughts about what the media might be saying. 

 

Having been in the media spotlight for so many years, any mass communication outlet in Korea was a source of constant fear and anxiety. He’d been lucky, during his career, not to have fallen into the clutches of any major scandals like so many other K-pop idols. No car accidents. No drunken forays into seedy parts of town. No getting caught with his pants down. No domestic abuse accusations. Nothing. By all accounts, Key had been one of Korea’s consummate “good boys”. He’d always had the reputation of a stand-up, albeit sassy, man who was much more likely to be recognized for his talents, fashion sense, or philanthropy than a frivolous loss of composure. He was quite proud of his reputation, even considering some of the raised eyebrows concerning his sudden departure from the military.  
Now, in that nearly empty hospital lobby, taking in the full impact of his mother’s terrified expression, Key knew things had taken a dark turn. 

 

She implored him with her eyes, as if begging him to remember something, _anything_ that could assuage her fears. Whatever she had seen on the news had put a crack in her motherly veneer. She looked at him as if he were a stranger, a monster. 

 

Key didn’t, or rather, _couldn’t_ say a word. 

 

She cast her gaze down and began walking, hurriedly, out of the hospital, as if she were trying to run away from him. 

 

Key hobbled after her out into the cold, icy parking lot. She was walking so quickly he felt winded as he tried to keep up with her. He was sure his crutches might slip out from under him at any moment. “ _Eomma_!” he called out to her desperately. Why was she going so quickly? Was she really trying to get away from him? He couldn’t understand her behavior. 

 

He was almost within sight of her car when, suddenly, from the black depths of the hospital parking lot a barrage of cameras and reporters ambushed him from all sides, rushing up around him like dark ocean waves. A flood of blinding lights and suffocating microphones fell upon his face. The sounds of hurried, unintelligible questions bumped up against his eardrums, practically slicing them in half. His entire mind went blank as he stared obtusely into the lights and the hungry eyes of the reporters. 

 

He re-gripped his crutches and tried to make an escape by propelling himself forward but they had formed a thick, babbling human wall in front of him and he couldn’t move to any side without immediate push back. Perhaps if he had command of both his legs he could have found a way around them but he was terrified of re-injuring himself, especially over something this stupid. Still, panic set into him and he felt as if he might collapse at any moment. 

 

Through the din of sound, one reporter’s voice came through clearly enough for him to get the gist of what they had all come to find out.

 

“Is it true that you had sexual relationships with several members of your squadron in order to ascend ranks during your military service?”

 

“Did I…what…?” Key felt the shock fill up his mouth and push out any breath he had left. 

 

“Several members from your barracks have come forward stating they suffered sexual harassment and coercion at your hands. What do you have to say for yourself?” Another reporter shouted. 

 

“I…” Key felt his entire body getting heavier. The camera lights were beginning to spin in front of him. He could feel his crutches slipping out from under his grasp. He wanted to run, fight, shout do _something_ , but his body was failing him. He was as frozen as the ice beneath his feet.

 

Then, suddenly, he heard someone shouting from behind him. Half hunched under his own weight, he somehow found the strength to pick his head up and look around. He could see Dr. Choi, his white lab coat gleaming white in the darkness of the evening. He was flanked by a few security guards. Two patrol cars with their lights on also rolled into view. They all seemed ready to beat the reporters back with whatever means necessary. Perhaps it was just Key’s compromised state but the whole thing looked like the ending scene of every action movie where the cops skid into view with synchronized control just before bringing the “bad guys” to their knees. 

 

“This is private property!” Dr. Choi shouted. “All of you are going to need to leave immediately. My patient has a right to his privacy and you are all violating that.”

 

A few reporters and camera men broke away without fuss but not nearly enough to free Key from his prison. The rest continued to shout questions and accusations from all directions. A few, emboldened by the newly open space, even came forward and jostled into him. 

 

“If you think you won’t all be arrested by continuing to stay on this property, we have plenty more police personnel on the way.” Dr. Choi’s voice was loud but completely steady as he walked forward with the officers in tow. 

 

This seemed to spook the majority of the reporters and they began to scatter away in a mad dash across the parking lot, back into the darkness. 

 

In the chaos, Key was knocked off his crutches. The useless metal things clattered to the ground and he caught himself on the icy black pavement with both hands. The sharp ice and asphalt cut into his skin in a painful burst. Utterly exhausted and physically trembling from shock of what had just happened, he could only momentarily hold himself up before he fell, cheek first, into the ground. He felt the cold jolt of ice as it cut into his skin again.

 

Dr. Choi and the officers ran over to him and pulled him up into a sitting position. His pants and sweatshirt were soaked with melted snow and he was bleeding from what seemed like multiple places. 

 

“Let’s get you back inside. I want to have a look at your leg,” Dr. Choi whispered to him gently, attempting to help him to his feet.

 

Key, reflexively, pushed the doctor away. “Get off of me!” he shouted, covering his head in his arms. “Don't fucking touch me!” his voice was raw, seeping with the pain he tried so hard to keep to himself. Horrified, he realized that there were no tears coming. Instead, it was only sheer, unbridled panic. His breath came in rough, tearing bursts; hot and slicing through his chest. He could see faces all crowded around him, violently switching between those of the reporters and those of his attackers. Bathed in half-lit darkness, wild and hungry eyes roving all around him. He held himself in a tiny, shivering ball and began rocking back and forth. Nothing felt real. 

"You'll get sick, please just come inside," Dr. Choi tried to help him again. As soon as he felt the doctor's hands on him, new bursts of memories filled up his mind; bolting out of the darkness as if flood gate had been blown off its hinges. 

 

Those faces he couldn't make out, from his flashback, suddenly held shape and contour; recognition. 

 

_There must have been half a dozen men, standing around his bed, glaring at him through the dark barracks. He was half asleep and fully confused. Suddenly their hands were all over his body. Pulling him out of the bed, slamming him into the ground. His head ached and his vision went sideways but he tried to push them off. There was laughter; evil laughter. Two of the men grabbed his arms and pinned him against the wall. He continued to kick out with his legs and tried to scream for help. Something wet and bitter and heavy was shoved into his mouth. He tried to spit it out but someone stretched tape across his face. He couldn't breathe. His eyes watered as he gagged on the material pressing into his throat. They were shouting at him but he couldn't hear anything over the sound of his own terrified breath. Then, suddenly, he felt it. That white-hot shriek of pain in his right leg._

 

The flashback ended and he slumped forward in Dr. Choi's outstretched hands. He felt sick to his stomach. He was done. Utterly and completely done. What little stability he had been clinging to in this whole ordeal had suddenly been shattered. He didn't want to remember. 

 

He leaned away from the doctor and threw up what little contents he had inside his stomach. When it was all gone, he dry heaved until an angry headache bristled inside of his temples and he could no longer physically manage them.

 

Dr. Choi remained at his side through the whole thing, continuing to hold him up so he wouldn't go sailing into the asphalt again. Eventually, Key was able to endure Dr. Choi's grip on him and allowed him to take him back inside to an exam room to get cleaned up. 

 

The bleeding was all superficial and none of it had come from Key’s leg. He did, however, give Key an extra shot of morphine so the trip home wouldn’t be so agonizing and, hopefully, so he could sleep peacefully.

 

“You came with your mother, didn’t you?” Dr. Choi asked. He hadn't seen the woman anywhere in all of the chaos.

 

“What mother leaves her child in a situation like that?” Key retorted as a new string of fear, shock, and anger unraveled within him. “I’ll take a bus home.”

 

“Non-sense. I’ll drive you.”

 

Key gave him a scathing look. He didn’t know who to trust anymore. 

 

“Kibum-sshi,” Dr. Choi sighed. “How long have we known each other?” 

 

Key nodded, his face straightening out. Dr. Choi had been his family’s doctor for as long as he could remember. He was even part of the team that helped deliver him at that very hospital. He knew he was being ridiculous but how was he supposed to act now? 

 

In the end, he accepted the ride back to his apartment. Dr. Choi even brought him to the pharmacy to pick up his pain pills. Just before getting out of the car, Dr. Choi stopped him. “Please try to get some rest. It sounds simple but it really will help...with everything." 

 

Key bit at his lower lip. “Dr. Choi…” he wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask him if he knew how to stop more memories from coming but he knew that was infantile and stupid and he lost his nerve. “…thank you…for everything…” he slammed the door shut and headed into his apartment, unsure who, if anyone, would be waiting for him.


	6. Sketches

“Some people are so sick!” Namjoon clicked his tongue as he waved the remote control at the TV above Jiyun’s bed.

 

Yoongi cocked his head in curiosity as he stopped the drawing his was working on and read the header on the TV screen. _SHINee’s ‘Key’ accused of sexual harassment_. Yoongi made a face. “That can’t be true. SHINee’s not the type of band to have scandals like that.”

 

Namjoon let out a snort. “What makes you such an expert on SHINee?”

 

Yoongi’s white cheeks turned a subtle shade of pink. 

 

“You’re a shawol?!” Namjoon exclaimed. 

 

“Hey, hey, hey… _they’re_ the shawols,” Yoongi pointed an accusatory finger at his daughters who were both giggling at the whole conversation. “Jiyun introduced us to them during one of her dance parties,” Yoongi eyed his daughter, imploringly as to ask her for some help.

 

Jiyun sat up a little straighter in bed, her dark eyes had a gorgeous sparkle to them as the conversation turned toward her favorite topic: k-pop idols. “It’s true. I introduced SHINee to dad but I didn’t make him dance. He decided to learn all on his own. He really likes Ring Ding Dong. Show uncle Namjoon!” 

 

Yoongi shut his eyes and let out a pained fit of laughter. “My own child, selling me out like this,” he grabbed his chest in mock pain.

 

“C’mon dad, you’re getting old. You should exercise more,” Jiyun teased. 

 

Yoongi clutched the other side of his chest and slumped over as if he had been “shot” a second time. 

 

Namjoon was cackling. “She called you old.”

 

“You’re only a year younger than me, you’ll be where I am soon enough.”

 

“Year _and a half_ ,” Namjoon stuck out his tongue. 

 

Yoongi play smacked him on the back of the head before turning to face his younger daughter. “Alright. Fine. I’ll do it. But only if Jia dances with me,” Yoongi bartered.

 

“No,” the petite girl said shyly. She hid behind the book she was reading but still shook with laughter.

 

“Please Jia!” Namjoon clasped his hands together and made a pouty face. “I need to see your dad do that dance. My happiness depends on it.”

 

She peeked out from behind the book, her pink little lips in an open smile, revealing her two missing front teeth.

 

“Jia, if you dance with him, I’ll take you on a book shopping spree. Three new books…no five new books.” It was Namjoon’s turn to barter. He knew the little girl well. Like him, she was an avid reader.

 

Jia looked shyly at her big sister who gave her an encouraging thumbs up. “You can do it. You’re really good! Better than dad!”

 

“Hey! We’ll see about that,” Yoongi joked, hopping to his feet.

 

With her big sister’s blessing and the promise of new books to add to her collection, Jia was persuaded. Yoongi held out his hand for her and she popped out of her chair to latch on. They cleared a space in the room big enough for their dance-off. 

 

“Namjoon this is going to make you stupidly happy,” Yoongi said. “I actually have the song on my phone.” He scrolled through his playlist and clicked on it as Namjoon dissolved into another fit of laughter. “You guys ready?” 

 

Everyone nodded, smiles bright and wide. Namjoon was leaning so far forward in his seat he was practically on the ground.

 

As the music kicked in, Yoongi transformed. If his day job was geeky house dad, his side job should have been dancer. Not only did Yoongi nail every single move, he also embellished certain parts. Namjoon was in legitimate shock to see that his best friend possessed such talent. Following her dad’s lead, Jia kept time and the two synchronized their dance moves to a tee. Yoongi watched her over his shoulder. 

 

“Our part is coming up, are you ready?” he asked. 

 

“ _They have a part_?” Namjoon asked Jiyun in amazement.

 

“Just watch,” Jiyun whispered back with a sweet smile of anticipation on her face. 

 

“Okay, three, two one…” the music stopped and Yoongi and Jia flew to separate ends of the room and descended into a rather intense battle of “The Floss”. 

 

Namjoon was practically rolling on the floor from laughing so hard but he managed to give both Yoongi and Jia congratulatory high-fives as they made their way back to their seats. Jia gave Jiyun an air-five, and the happiness in Yoongi’s chest deflated slightly. 

 

Jiyun’s immune system was so weak that Jia, who still attended public school and was thus exposed to a myriad of germs, wasn’t allowed to touch her. Yoongi was amazed at how seriously Jia had regarded the rule. At just six years old she had been able to accommodate the many lifestyle changes that surrounded Jiyun’s health and hadn’t once made a mistake or rebelled against anyone’s orders. She was so much like her mother it sometimes astounded Yoongi. Perfect, careful, forever lost in the pages of a book, and deeply kind, Yoongi could hardly believe he’d helped create her. Jiyun was more like him. Alert, sharp witted, and a fatal realist. She was only nine years old but most days she handled her illness with sort of poise and grace Yoongi didn’t know was possible for people under the age of 40. Both Yoongi and Jiyun saw the world for what it was, all of its pain and all of its happiness, without any filters. 

 

“You taught him all that?” Namjoon asked Jiyun in wide-eyed amazement.

 

She nodded shyly and gave Yoongi a beaming look of pride. “I can’t believe you remembered it all. It’s been so long since we practiced.”

 

“Well, you’re a good teacher,” Yoongi gave her a bow and shot her a few air-fives of his own before resuming his seat.

 

“Jia…next time he does that…I’m going to need you to record it. If you can do that, I’ll double the books. Ten books. No, the whole book store…it’s yours…” Namjoon promised between gasps for breath.

 

Jia gave him a solid nod of approval. 

 

“Bribing my kids for blackmail material? Nice, Namjoon, real nice,” Yoongi chuckled as he got back to work on his drawing. 

 

“Don’t think of it as blackmail. Think of it as providing the world with a gift.”

 

Yoongi waved Namjoon off and started shading in certain parts of his newest sketch.

 

Jiyun craned her neck over to see what her dad was drawing. “Is that baby me or Jia?” She asked.

 

Yoogi tossed some hair out of his eyes and used the edge of his pinky finger to blend in some of the lines. “You,” he mumbled. 

 

Jiyun leaned back in her bed, a small smile on her face. Jia came over to get a closer look and nuzzled her chin into Yoongi’s shoulder as she watched him color in a few wispy strands of hair. 

 

“Don’t worry, bug, I will draw plenty of pictures of you too,” he assured the younger girl. 

 

A few months earlier, when Jiyun’s stay at the hospital became long-term, she sat up all night and drew a picture of her bedroom. When Yoongi asked her about it, she simply replied: “I’m afraid I’ll forget what it looks like.” 

 

Yoongi hadn’t known what to say to her about the picture but he was happy that she was finding small ways to comfort herself. He had tried to make the transition as comfortable as possible, decorating the room with as many of her creature comforts from home that he could bring. Some things like blankets and pillows weren’t allowed for sanitary reasons but he’d brought pictures, and toys, and trinkets and carefully arranged them around the room so it looked almost like home.  
But almost wasn’t good enough.

 

This was a hospital, not home. 

 

The reality was, she would probably never see home again. That drawing, would be the only window back into her old life.

 

The next day, she drew a picture of Jia and herself huddled together on the futon they shared, reading a book together. She cut their figures out from the rest of the paper and glued the drawing inside the bedroom scene. She proudly showed Yoongi the moment he walked through the door.

 

When Yoongi saw the new addition, he felt his knees go weak beneath his weight. The presentation had caught him so off guard he nearly lost his carefully maintained composure. He managed to straighten out his facial features as quickly as possible, so as not to appear anything less than happy and upbeat for his daughter. 

 

“Jiyun, this is amazing,” he said in a voice stronger than he felt. He meant it. He was in awe of how gifted she was. He reached out and gently thumbed the intricate pencil strokes. 

 

“I want to draw our whole house, and, inside all of the rooms, I want to draw my favorite memories we had there together,” she declared.

 

“That’s a great idea,” Yoongi beamed at her. The smile on his face was forced and painful. But it was a smile. “Do you want me to bring pictures for you to look at?” 

Jiyun shook her head no. “Pictures only catch one moment of a memory. For me, every memory in my head is a million moments that only I know how to recreate. I have to draw it. It’s the only way I can really see what’s hiding in here,” she knocked her small fist against her temple. “Does that make any sense?” she asked.

Yoongi nearly lost his composure again but managed to hold himself together. The smile became so tight that he felt like he was suffocating.

 

When he got back to his apartment that night, he was total mess. It seemed every day of her illness he was unraveling a new facet of grief. Jiyun, his beautiful baby girl, housed such a small yet brilliant world inside of her. Memories and stories and talents and even dreams, dreams that grew dimmer by the day, but still shone through in her eyes when she spoke. He couldn’t fathom his world or any world without her. It made him physically ill to think she could disappear from him at any moment. 

 

As he dried his tears with the backs of his sleeves that night, he became determined to help Jiyun with her undertaking and, the next morning, when he asked if he could draw some of his memories too, she grew visibly elated. She gave him an eager nod “yes” and got to work on her latest drawing: Yoongi holding her up to put a start on a Christmas tree. 

 

Yoongi felt an instant lightness in his chest. 

 

For almost three months now, as she was able, Jiyun and Yoongi spent their days drawing memories for each other. Since the house Jiyun grew up in was the Kim’s house, Namjoon lent his expertise on some of the rooms as they were being drawn, much to Jiyun’s annoyance. 

 

“It’s _my_ memory,” she would huff as Namjoon fussily pointed out arrangement flaws.

 

“Yeah, but it’s wrong…” Namjoon huffed back.

 

“Yah! How many kids do I have again?” Yoongi found himself yelling more than once. It always made everyone laugh, even though it wasn’t meant to be funny. 

 

Now, sitting in the quiet comfort of Jiyun’s hospital room, a sudden barrage of flashing light came through the windows. 

 

“Is that lightning?” Jia asked, clutching Yoongi’s arm in fear. She hated thunderstorms. 

 

Yoongi looked up toward the window, curiosity piquing. In the black winter sky, brilliant flashes of light popped in and out of sight.  
Namjoon got to his feet and peered out the window. “What the hell…?”

 

“What is it?” Yoongi asked. Jia clung to him tighter. He picked her up and held her against his chest as he went to join Namjoon at the window. 

 

From their 2nd floor view, both Yoongi and Namjoon could see a rather large mob of reporters, camera men, and news trucks congregating around a man who looked to be on crutches. They watched for a moment as the man seemed to back away. Yoongi wondered if he should do something.

 

“Is there someone famous at this hospital?” Namjoon wondered out loud.

 

Yoongi briefly recalled his encounter with the masked man a week earlier. “I think I ran into someone who looked like they didn’t want to be recognized.”

 

“Who? Bloody-leg-guy?” Namjoon guessed correctly. Yoongi’s story about that day had been highly fascinating for him. Namjoon’s area of focus in med school was orthopedics. He’d read about botched surgeries in one of his textbooks and felt strangely moved by what that man must have been going through, despite the immature nickname he coined him with.

 

“Yeah, him,” Yoongi confirmed. “But what celebrity would come all the way to Daegu to get medical attention?” Either way, it didn’t matter who the man outside was, Yoongi had made up his mind to call someone on the staff to go help the poor guy before he got mobbed to death.

 

“Dad, I don’t feel well,” Jiyun suddenly croaked from the bed.

 

Yoongi turned to face her and saw that she had gone completely ashen. All previous thoughts left Yoongi as he handed Jia off to Namjoon and rushed to her side. He fumbled for the bed pan and placed it under her mouth, just in time. 

 

He rubbed slow, comforting circles into her back and looked up at Namjoon, helplessly. I hadn’t been often that Namjoon, or Jia, for that matter, had seen Jiyun get ill. Normally, it was just Yoongi and Jiyun in her room, drawing pictures, telling stories, or silently enjoying each other’s company. Tonight had been a rare, perhaps too lively, occasion, where nearly the whole family was together. 

 

“Jia, let’s go get some candy from the vending machine,” Namjoon suggested quietly to the little girl in his arms.

 

“But Jiyun’s sick. I have to stay here and make sure she’s okay.”

 

Namjoon’s eyes flitted to Yoongi. 

 

“Jia-bug…she’s going to be okay. Go with uncle Joon.”

 

“No!” Jia squirmed her way out of Namjoon’s arms, tears and anguish on her small face. “I want to help Jiyun!” 

 

“Take her, please,” Yoongi half shouted as, at the same time, Jiyun got violently sick once more. As he struggled to help Jiyun balance the nearly full bed pan, he could hear Jia’s shrieks echoing down the hallway. 

 

Within minutes Dr. Kim was in the room, looking a bit frazzled. “Is everything okay?” She asked. 

 

Yoongi turned toward her. “Jiyun’s not feeling well. Jia wanted to help.”

 

“Here, let me get you a new one,” Dr. Kim reached up into one of the cupboards on the other side of the room and pulled out a new bed pan. She took the old one and went to the bathroom to clean it out. 

 

Yoongi sat numbly at Jiyun’s side, mumbling soft words of encouragement to her until she finally stopped heaving into the pan and slid under her covers, shivering. 

 

Dr. Kim collected the second bed pan and gently cleaned Jiyun up. By the time she was finished, Jiyun was already in a deep sleep.

 

Yoongi sighed and ran his hands over his exhausted face, settling them in his hair.

 

Dr. Kim took a seat beside him and put a hand on his knee. 

 

“I hate how we can go from having fun to… _that_ …in just a few seconds.”

 

“I know this is cold comfort, Yoongi, but a little bit of fun, no matter what else happens in her day, is better than nothing at all. None of us can take this illness away from her but we can try to take her mind off of it.”

 

“I just wish I knew what to do,” he sighed, taking his hands out of his hair and folding his arms across his stomach. 

 

“You know, she lights up when she sees you. I don’t know many girls her age that still get that way around their parents. She adores you, Yoongi. The bond you have with her is so special. It always has been. You may feel helpless but, trust me, you can’t fail her. It’s just not possible.”

 

Yoongi offered her a weak smile and got to his feet. “I better go save your son from Jia’s wrath,” he sighed.

 

Dr. Kim gave him a motherly squeeze on his hand and lingered behind to make sure Jiyun was okay. Once Yoongi was out of the room, Dr. Kim allowed herself to look at Jiyun; _really_ look at her. She tried not to let her love for the sweet little girl cloud over her honest, objective, and professional opinion. Jiyun was getting worse by the day. Dr. Kim knew it was only a matter of time. She looked out into the hallway after Yoongi and felt a deep ache settle over her.


	7. Breathe

Key’s mother wasn’t at the apartment when he returned home that awful evening, but he didn’t let it bother him for too long. Painkillers in hand, the first dose he took was twice the amount Dr. Choi had recommended. He fell asleep on the couch and didn’t wake up for nearly three days. 

 

In that time, no one called and no one came to check on him. It was as if he had vanished along with his good reputation; a ghost inhabiting a warm body. 

 

In the weeks since then, he’d hardly dared to step foot outside of his apartment. The false accusations made their way through the media circuit like wildfire. 

 

Everywhere he looked, it seemed, he saw his face smeared in hate speech and lies. Even when he made it a point to stop watching TV and going on social media, the trouble came right to his front door. 

 

Complete strangers had worked out where he lived and came in an endless parade to deface his property. So far, he’d had to scrub eggs, wet toilet tissue, red paint, and even feces off his front door. Sometimes he’d wake up to pictures of his mutilated face and body shoved under the door and into the foyer. Some of the photos were photoshopped and contained threats like “this is what I will do to you if you show your ugly face in public again.” Perhaps more disturbing was the fact that some of the pictures were actual copies of the photographs that had been taken of him when he first came into the military hospital; bloodied and beaten within inches of his life. He didn’t know how the public had gotten a hold of such sensitive information, but he couldn’t say he was surprised or even scared.

 

Emotions were luxuries for people who still had the will to live. Even as he scraped literal shit off of his front door, he felt nothing.

 

Eventually a few texts and phone calls came rolling in from the outside world. Dr. Choi called to check on him a few times, fellow celebrities offered weak promises of support, Jinki had even dared to call him even though he was still in the middle of his own service and doing so was a huge risk. Key felt horrible that Jinki had been put in such a position and though he wanted to talk to him more than anyone, he decided not to call back, just in case it made things worse. 

 

In Mid-December, nearly two weeks after holing himself up in the apartment, late in the afternoon, he heard a knock on the door. He knew it was probably just some assholes looking to cause more trouble but the anxiety that coursed through him in these situations never seemed to let up. He pressed himself into the back oh his sofa and curled into himself.

 

There was another knock. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his hands around his middle, willing whoever it was to hurry up and do their damage.  
“Kibum-ah! It’s mom! Open up and let me in, aish, there’s trash everywhere! Kibum-ah!”

 

Key sat up on the couch. The room took on a funny tilt. He’d taken two pain pills and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was awake or asleep. The voice sounded like his mother’s but it could have been an illusion. Reality was a bit blurry for him. 

 

“Aigoo, Kibum-ah, are you really living like this? Let your mother in. I know you must hate me for the way I’ve treated you but surely I’m not lower than the trash on this ground. Are you going to leave me out here too?”

 

Key hobbled over to the door, dizzy and disoriented. Whoever it was, even if it was someone playing a trick, he wanted to see their face. He opened the door and his mouth fell open, slightly.

 

It really was his mother. 

 

The harsh florescent lighting in the hallway made her look older and sadder than he remembered; this version of his mother was someone completely unrecognizable to him which made the temptation to slam the door in her face all the harder to resist. 

 

“Can I come in, please?” She implored him, kicking at the literal trash under her feet. 

 

Key worked his jaw for a moment before silently stepping aside to let her in. A sticky candy wrapper clung to her pant leg as she came inside. She brushed it off in frustration before she slid off her shoes and stepped into his kitchen.

 

“What are you doing here?” Key asked thickly.

 

His mother held her arms against her chest as if she were afraid he would attack her. She kept a healthy distance away from him as she began to speak. “Kibum-ah…”

 

“Don’t call my name so casually,” he bit angrily at her. 

 

She seemed to accept this. “I know you must hate me for the way I’ve been acting…for the way I left that night. I understand if you do, really, but that’s not why I’m here.”

 

Key lifted his head and gave her a questioning gaze. 

 

“Your grandmother is dead. We’ve already had her funeral.”

 

Key stumbled backward as the news socked him. The anger and bitterness was instant and he could taste metallic rage building on top of his tongue. 

 

“It wasn’t my choice,” she said quickly. “Your father thought it would be best if you…”

 

“Get out,” Key opened the door and made a motion for her to exit.

 

“Kibum…”

 

“Leave!” He shouted. His chest heaved with angry gasps.

 

“You’re my son…I just wanted to…”

 

“You don’t have a son. Just like I don’t have a mother or a father. You both wanted me to stay away so badly, that’s fine. We mean nothing to each other now.” He couldn’t stand the sight of her. 

 

Tears brimmed in his mother’s eyes as he hurled his sharp words into her. “You’re not the only one who gets to be angry!” she shouted at him. “Think about how it is for us. Hardly anyone showed up to her funeral because of this whole mess. Because of what _you_ did!”

 

Something snapped inside of Key. He reeled toward her on unsteady legs and grabbed her by the shoulders. “It’s all lies! Every last word of it is bullshit! I would never do something like that…they abused me…they…they…” He could see the unbridled fear in his mother’s eyes and immediately let go of her. He fell against the wall and slid to the floor, burying his head in his arms. He hiccupped so hard that his entire chest seized with pain he could actually feel. This was the closest he’d ever gotten to giving a confession about what he had suffered. 

 

In a cruel twist, his total isolation had brought back every memory of that night, in full, unyielding detail. He now remembered everything and it swirled inside of him, forcing him further into his numbness just to contain it all. 

 

He dimly registered his mother fishing for something out of her purse, a ruffling of papers, and then, she was gone. He slammed the door shut after her and dissolved into heavy, painful sobs until he could no longer keep his eyes open.

 

 

When he woke next, he had no way of knowing what time it was. He kept the curtains drawn at all times. All he knew was that his leg had started hurting him again and he needed more medicine. He forced his stiff muscles to unfurl as he got back to his feet and blindly felt around the kitchen counter for his pill bottle. In the process, his palm landed flatly on a piece of bright pink paper. Curious, he scooped it up into his hands and read the lettering at the top.

 

_Land Title_

 

_This document hereby grants 신도림 Café (Sindorim Café), hereafter referred to as Property A, to the name and legal care of Kim Kimbum..._

 

He read the words over and over a few times before it started to sink in. This address belonged to his grandmother, or, rather, it used to belong to her. It was her café, the one she’d built with his grandfather at the end of the Korean War. It had been in the family for decades. She’d always joked that she would sell it to the Korean mafia before she died so that Key and the rest of the family could live comfortably when she could no longer provide for them. Though everyone had always known it was a joke, it also stopped the family from thinking seriously about what would actually happen to the place once the time came. Never, in a million years, did Key expect the café to fall into his possession. When had his grandmother made this decision? 

 

He’d known she was sick for quite some time but with everything going on it was impossible for him to see her in those last few weeks of her life. Was this her way of communicating with him from the dead?

 

He set the paper down and rubbed at his temples. He wasn’t ready to deal with this just yet. He found the pills and swallowed two more. 

 

When he set the plastic bottle back on the counter, he noticed something was off. Instead of the usual rattling noise of the pills bumping up against the plastic container, he heard silence. He snatched the pill bottle back up and examined it closely.

 

It was empty.

 

“Fuck!” he shouted. He would need to get more which would mean another trip to the hospital. Dr. Choi would be weary, of course, as to how and why Key had gone through the pills so quickly but Key was sure he could convince the doctor that it had been an oversight, that the pain was still bad enough to warrant the extra dosage. 

 

He rehearsed the story he would tell Dr. Choi when he saw him first thing in the morning, before collapsing on the couch and sliding back into oblivion. 

 

 

Yoongi sat in the cafeteria opposite Jia. They each sipped from matching apple juice boxes and took turns making funny faces at each other as they completed each gulp. Yoongi scrunched his nose up at Jia as the sugar sweet liquid came to a stop in his empty stomach. She returned a set of crossed eyes to him as she smacked her lips. He took a second sip before sticking his tongue out and flapping his hands by his ears. He waited for her to do something back but his last facial expression made her laugh so hard that some of the juice in her mouth escaped and ran down the front of her shirt.

 

“Really?! Only two faces and you’re already out?” He teased her as he sponged the juice off her shirt with a napkin.

 

She coughed a little and sighed with laughter. “You always win this game!” 

 

“Is my face really that funny?” 

 

“Yeah, kind of!” Jia answered honestly. 

 

“Hey! Half this face is yours, you know…” he tickled her under her chin, which elicited another round of giggles.

 

The two were so caught up in their play that Yoongi almost didn’t notice the rush of camera men and reporters flying through the lobby. Their hurried steps made a barrage of squeaking and clicking noises on the linoleum floors and it seemed that their shutters were already going off as fast as their hurried whispers of “Quickly, quickly! They said he’s this way!” 

 

Yoongi stood up to watch them head out of the main entrance and into the front lawn area. Jia followed her father’s gaze and, along with everyone else in the café, watched the door with rapt attention. After a few minutes of commotion outside, the doors nearly burst open and the reporters filed back into the lobby, snapping and shuttering and shouting in whirlwind of sound. In the middle of the throng, trying his best to stay steady, a man on crutches, half shrouded in a face mask. 

He was clearly someone famous and Yoongi wondered why the man hadn’t used a private entrance. “This guy clearly has a death wish,” he mumbled to himself as he watched the masked man propel himself down the hall.

 

Upon giving him a closer look, Yoongi suddenly realized that the man was familiar to him. He was sure of it now, this was definitely the man he had encountered nearly a month earlier. But who was he? Then, again, all at once, it hit him. The news about Key from SHINee was on every station. Without even fully giving it his attention, he somehow knew the full story. 

 

Apparently, Key had asked some of his commanding officers to give him special privileges, thinking his celebrity status would get him better connections; perhaps better barracks or more weekends off base. When the officers told him that everyone was equal in the military, and that he wouldn’t receive any such treatment, Key, apparently, tried to up the ante by sexually satisfying an officer that was a bit “weaker” than the others. Many in his squadron had claimed that Key was openly homosexual and had no trouble at all giving his “services” away to anyone he thought could get him better connections. After a few months of this, his “victims” banned together and confronted him about his behavior, claiming abuse. That’s when the soldiers claimed he got violent. They reported Key had been the one who threw the first punch and they had to fight him off. They claimed it was all in self-defense; that fear and anger had taken them over and they couldn’t help themselves. That's why his injuries were so bad. Key’s most severe injury was his right leg, which some believe was operated on incorrectly. A few “expert” sources on the matter even threw in speculation that the surgery was botched on purpose, to teach Key a lesson in humility, but the doctors at the military hospital denied the claims and were not being actively investigated. 

 

Yoongi thought the whole thing smelled like bullshit. He’d done his military service as soon as he turned 20 but because he had children, his term was reduced to just one year. Still, in that year, he’d experienced his fair share of undue bullying just for being a bit on the small and pale side. He could easily believe that Key had been made a glaring target for the other men simply because of his celebrity status. Add to this, some rumors of questionable sexual identity, it was no wonder Key was hobbling around on a bum leg. How could something this severe _not_ happen? 

 

Yoongi watched as the man rounded the corner of the hallway under the protection of two security guards who looked absolutely massive next to his small frame.  
Then, suddenly, Key brought his eyes up and looked straight into Yoongi’s curious gaze. Their eyes locked in a moment that extended longer than it should have. Yoongi, feeling as though he were greeting an old friend rather than a stranger; a celebrity, gave him a friendly half-smile. 

 

Key clattered to an awkward stop as he absorbed the sight, but, luckily, he managed to stay upright this time. He tried to smile back but he mouth wouldn’t unfreeze and, since it was obscured by his mask anyway, he knew it would be pointless. Still, he felt that same, strange, fluttering warmth spread out through his chest as he continued to look at the impossibly beautiful man. _Min Yoongi_. He could never forget. 

 

“Keep moving,” one of the security guards urged Key as they helped him unstick himself from the awkward angle he’d frozen in. Just in time, too, as the moment he reluctantly moved forward, the tsunami of media personnel nearly engulfed him. 

 

“Who was that?” Jia asked in a tiny, excited voice. 

 

Yoongi turned his smile toward her and pulled her onto his lap as he resumed his seat. “Just someone who needed a smile,” he explained quietly.

 

“He looked sad. Was it because he had so many people yelling at him?”

 

“Probably,” Yoongi sighed. “Can you imagine 100 copies of me screaming at you to clean up your room as you try to run away?” 

 

Jia’s face filled with genuine terror as she shook her head no. 

 

Yoongi hugged her to his chest and nuzzled his cheek against her head. He could feel Key’s loneliness just by looking at him. He felt lucky, even given the bleak outlook of his own situation, to at least have one of his daughters curled up in his lap. 

 

Jiyun was currently in surgery. Her biggest operation yet. Jia had no idea what was going on and he wanted to keep it that way. They’d been in the cafeteria for almost an hour, making up games to entertain themselves. Even though Yoongi tried his best to keep smiling, every second of that hour had been filled with nerve shattering worry. Seeing Key just now, had somehow knocked him off balance. He tried so hard to see the silver lining in these long, arduous stretches in the hospital, but Key was an unwelcome reminder of where he was; a reminder that there was suffering beyond his own and sometimes, it was inescapable. The thin veneer he had plastered over his expressions was cracking. 

 

A few hot tears dripped down his cheeks and into Jia’s hair. He held onto her a little tighter and she let him; still young enough to enjoy being held. Suddenly, he was crying because he missed her. He missed the way their lives used to be. Though Jia was right there in his arms and Jiyun was still breathing on this earth, he missed them fiercely. The flood gates inside of him were slowly creaking open now and he felt a tremor of panic race through him as he realized he didn’t know how to stop it. 

 

He sniffled, quietly and bit down on his lip so hard it threatened to bleed.

 

_Keep it together. Keep it together._

 

He chastised himself. Why was staying composed and in control getting so hard to do? 

 

“Daddy?” Jia called out to him gently. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you crying?”

 

“Of course he’s not,” Namjoon was suddenly taking a seat at the other end of the table where Jia had been sitting. 

 

“Uncle Namjoon!” She shouted, leaping off Yoongi’s lap and into Namjoon’s arms. 

 

Yoongi immediately turned away from them, pretending to look out one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, so neither of them would see his tear stained face but Jia wasn’t so easily fooled. 

 

“He is crying, look,” Jia pouted. 

 

Yoongi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and turned back around, brushing the tears off his cheeks. He tried to remember how to smile but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate. 

 

Namjoon looked at Yoongi, then at Jia. “Did you tease him about being old again?”

 

Yoongi let out a cough/laugh. Jia laughed as well but still seemed uneasy.

 

“I told you not tease him. He’s very sensitive!” Namjoon said playfully, tickling her.

 

“I didn’t, though!” Jia protested through giggles. 

 

“Try to remember! It could have been from a long time ago…maybe you even said it in your sleep!” He made a silly face at her before switching to a more mature expression with Yoongi. “Jia…” Namjoon reached into his pocket and fished out a few bills. “I’m tired from working all night. Can you go buy me a hamburger? Tell them no pickles.” 

 

Jia’s eyes grew wide at the sight of so much money transferring to her hands and she quickly went off to fulfill her errand. 

 

Yoongi immediately slumped over into his left hand and shook with sobs that came much more forcefully than he expected. Namjoon reached across the table and grasped Yoongi’s right hand tightly. 

 

“It’s okay,” Namjoon assured him softly as he ran a thumb over Yoongi’s knuckles. “This is a really stressful day. You’re doing everything right. You got it? Absolutely everything.”

 

Yoongi heaved a shaking sniffle and sunk into the bend of his arm, trying to regain composure. Eyes shut, tears rolling down his cheeks like rain droplets, he let out an exhausted sigh. “This is her last chance," he said through quivering lips. "If they don't remove the tumor today she's going to..." 

"Hey, shhh...deep breaths. Don't let your mind wander there. I know these doctors. They may be working in this dump but they're the best in the world. She's in good hands."

"I can’t do this anymore, Joon. I can’t.” Yoongi's hands began to tremor.

 

Namjoon looked over at Jia who was distracted with counting the money in her hands. Namjoon smiled as he saw her tiny pink lips mouthing “no pickles” to herself over and over again. She couldn’t possibly be bothered to look over at them. 

 

Namjoon seized the opportunity and moved his chair next to Yoongi’s. He gently rubbed his hunched shouldered, side to side. 

 

“Just let it out,” he whispered to him. He knew Yoongi was embarrassed, letting himself go like this in such a public place, so he acted as a makeshift shield, leaning over on the table to block Yoongi from any prying eyes. He also knew Yoongi hadn’t slept in days and something had to break. It wasn’t humanly possible to handle the amount of stress Yoongi was facing, without letting go of something. If that something was his composure, Namjoon wasn’t about to tell him to stop. 

 

Yoongi sobbed into the corner of his arm, softly, trying not to make any noise. He was so tired. He really couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. Words could not express how thankful he was for Namjoon’s company. 

 

Namjoon continued to rub Yoongi’s back as he looked over his shoulder to monitor Jia’s progress. Really, as long as she didn’t see her father having a break down, everything would still be okay. Namjoon saw that she was next in line and bent down to whisper in Yoongi’s ear. 

 

“Do you want to go get some air? I can watch Jia.”

 

Yoongi sniffled again and wiped at his face. He nodded slowly. 

 

Namjoon stood up and pulled Yoongi into one of his tight bear hugs. 

 

“Thank you,” Yoongi breathed into Namjoon’s neck. 

 

His warm, wet breath and the feel of Yoongi’s body leaning into him; needing him for support sent familiar shivers through Namjoon’s body. Namjoon closed his eyes, allowing himself a small moment of bliss before he inhaled sharply and gently put Yoongi back on his feet. He refused to let his thoughts wander too far.

 

Namjoon put a hand on the side of Yoongi’s head and tried to meet his gaze. “Deep breaths, okay?”

 

Yoongi gave a small nod and wandered down the hallway. Namjoon watched until he couldn’t see him anymore and let out a small sigh of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn Namjoon...when did you catch those feelings? ;)


	8. Scissors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I edited this bit of info into the draft I originally posted but Namjoon's father is the owner of the hospital, which will become important in the next few chapters :) Enjoy!

Dr. Choi had only one question for Key.

 

“Is your leg giving you any trouble?” 

 

“Not as long as I take the pills,” Key answered simply. “They make me extremely tired though so it’s more like my leg can’t give me trouble after I take them since I basically just fall asleep.”

 

The doctor sighed. Giving Key a refill was a calculated risk. He’d done enough surgeries to know what Key was dealing with. Without the pills, the pain would be inhumane. He couldn’t, in good conscience, let Key suffer in such an agonizing way. The pills, though potentially addictive, were basically safe, even if Key took more than the prescribed amount. Dr. Choi reasoned that as long as Key was still attending his sessions with Dr. Ko, they could act as a buffer between Key and any potential abuse of the medication. He was more than willing to hand over the prescription but there would be conditions this time, some of them his own recommendations, some of them, completely out of his hands. Dr. Choi was about to lay them out.

 

“You skipped your appointment with Dr. Ko last week,” He reproached him.

 

Key didn’t break eye contact with the prescription paper the doctor had yet to hand over. “I told you. I remember everything now and I’ve made peace with it. I don’t need to see him anymore.”

 

Dr. Choi bent his head and let out a sigh. “That’s not how this works. Kibum…I didn’t want to corner you like this but I don’t think I have much time. There are some police officers waiting down stairs. Given the severity of the allegations these military officers are brining against you, they feel it’s necessary to conduct an investigation. They want to question you. It’s lucky I caught wind of this when I did, otherwise, you may very well be sitting in a jail cell right now.”  
“What?” Key felt his heart racing in his chest. “A jail cell? Why?”

 

“These officers…” Dr. Choi muttered, “they have unjustified power in almost every sector of society. They can say and do whatever they want to whoever they want just for the fun of it. I don’t know how you got on their bad side but they will continue to be ruthless. I don’t have any power over the military officers, but I do have some sway over a few law enforcement personnel. They owe me favors from a long time ago. I’ve convinced them to give you an ultimatum.”

 

Key felt like he couldn’t breathe. Could this actually be happening to him? Just because he remembered every detail of that gruesome night didn’t mean he knew why the officers had chosen him to be their chew toy. Could such a trusted institute be this corrupt? Could people in such a prestigious position be that evil? “What’s the ultimatum?” he forced himself to ask.

 

“In exchange for your freedom, you need to answer their questions. Every one of them. No lies. No holding back. A full confession. If you give them that, they will consider nominating you for a rehab program rather than formally charging you with any crimes.”

 

“But I didn’t do anything!” Key’s voice was tight and came out like mud. His chest and neck felt so constricted he had to touch his skin to make sure there weren’t ropes there. “How can I be punished for someone else’s lie?”

 

“It’s out of my hands,” Dr. Choi said, visibly upset himself. “Trust me on this one, Kibum. Just answer their questions and if they give you the rehab option Dr. Ko and myself will do everything we can to make it…”

 

“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do!” Key shouted, his face strangled for proper oxygen. He stood up sharp and fast, without thinking. He was sure there was pain but he was so overwhelmed he couldn’t feel it. “I can’t just talk about what they did to me. It was worse than vile. It was…it was…” Key felt himself getting nauseous just thinking about it all. He gripped the edge of Dr. Choi’s desk to steady himself. 

 

“Believe me, I wish there was something more I could do.”

 

“I have to get out of here. I can’t be here right now…”

 

“If you go out there, those officers will arrest you! I can’t ask security or anyone else to protect you from them.” Dr. Choi warned, trying to intercept him as Key snatched up his crutches. 

 

Key shoved passed him. “It doesn’t matter. I’m a dead man anyway,” he muttered.

 

Dr. Choi stopped him with a firm hand. He locked eyes with him in one last desperate plea. “I can only call in so many favors. I’m begging you. Please, talk to them.”  
“I can’t,” Key sighed as he dropped his head down to his chest. A fine tremor ran through him and he really thought he might vomit at any second.  
“You can trust me,” Dr. Choi said with the utmost sincerity. He folded the prescription note in half and tucked it into Key’s hand.

 

Key thawed for a moment, briefly reconsidering his next steps. Trust. What did that mean to him anymore? He didn’t know if he was at all capable of such a thing anymore. He stared at the note in his hand and saw more than just a piece of paper. He saw several unknowable roads darting off in different directions, none of which had clear endings. One road lead to overdose. One road lead to the meager half-existence he now lived. One road lead to making a run for it and trying to get passed whatever law enforcement was waiting for him downstairs. One road lead to Dr. Choi’s offer for rehab. Somehow, he felt like whatever he did with this paper would affect him for the rest of his life. 

 

“They’re really going to arrest me?” He mumbled.

 

“With absolute certainty,” Dr. Choi sighed. “The only way you can avoid it is by letting me invite them up here. It’s the only way they’ll accept your cooperation.” 

 

Key Set his crutches down and fell back into his chair. “Okay. I’m ready.”

 

 

Yoongi found his way to a small green space a few meters away from the building. Though the sun shone brightly around him, the December air was frigid and bit into his exposed skin. He hadn’t thought about putting on a jacket before going outside. His mind was swirling with so many thoughts, he could barely accommodate them all. 

 

Exhausted, he plopped down on wooden bench with a small huff. His breath escaped from him in a white burst of condensation and he closed his eyes. The tears on his lashes turned cold and when he went brush them away, they felt like tiny crystals under his fingertips. 

 

He tried to reassure himself that Jiyun was strong enough to come through the surgery. After all, she was already exceeding the doctors’ expectations. Upon initial diagnosis they gave her just 2 months to live. She’d already made it 5 months and was still strong enough to have the surgery that could extend her time even longer. Truthfully, it was all a waiting game. The odds weren’t great but she still had a fighting chance and Yoongi clung to that with everything he had. He couldn’t bear to think about the alternative.

 

Yoongi heard something crunching in the snow not too far from where he sat and involuntarily looked around. He saw Namjoon lumbering toward him, carrying his jacket and a cup of coffee.

 

Yoongi sat up and graciously accepted the warm gifts from Namjoon’s hands. 

 

“Mom took Jia home,” Namjoon informed him as he settled onto the bench beside him. He blew into his hands and rubbed them together to warm them. “How are you not freezing right now?”

 

Yoongi shrugged. He was too tired to feel anything but he had to admit the feel of warm coffee between his hands relaxed him quite a bit.  
“I know you don’t want to talk about this but I think we should contact Sunhee…”

 

Yoongi’s entire body reacted to the suggestion. He leaned forward on his knees and adamantly shook his head. “No way. Not going to happen.”  
“Hyung…Jiyun is her daughter too. This is a serious operation, she should at least know what’s going on.”

 

Yoongi clenched his fists so tightly his fingers cracked. He could barely contain the swell of anger that roiled inside of him. “If she really wanted to know, she would have come around by now. Have you seen her? I sure as hell haven’t! Things like this…like Jiyun going in for major surgery…that’s the entire reason Sunhee left in the first place. She doesn’t want to know about it.” It hurt to say her name. Sunhee. 

 

“That’s exactly my point! She had the luxury of walking away when Jiyun’s illness got too hard to deal with and she left you to take care of everything on your own. She shouldn’t be able to get away with that. She should feel this pain with you.” 

 

Yoongi pressed his hands over his face and let out a low moan. “Ugh…Namjoon…I really cannot deal with this right now…one crisis at a time, please…”

 

“Okay, okay…I’m sorry,” Namjoon offered earnestly. “It’s just…Jia has been asking about her a lot.”

 

“I know,” Yoongi sniffled. “I’m running out of things to say to her. She’s smart, too smart. She knows we haven’t been telling her the whole truth.”

 

“Yeah, I think she’s catching on that mommy isn’t on vacation…” Namjoon poked at the flimsy excuse Yoongi had provided to Jia to explain her mother’s abrupt absence. 

 

“I know telling her that was a stupid move but what are you supposed say to a 6-year-old when their mother abandons them? ‘Oh, sorry kid, mommy bailed because she wasn’t mentally or emotionally mature enough to handle the load of shit dumped onto this family and didn’t want to hang around to watch your big sister die…’”

 

His voice caught in his throat as he spat out the words in taciturn bitterness. Let his head go limp on his neck and buried his head in his hand again.

 

“Okay,” Namjoon whispered softly as he gently massaged Yoongi’s neck. “We’ll figure this out together. You’re right. One crisis at a time.”

 

Yoongi came up for air after a few minutes and Namjoon gently wiped the tears off his friend’s cheeks with the back of his coat sleeve.

 

“I need to take a piss,” Yoongi announced with a tiny sniffle. 

 

 

About ten minutes into the questioning, Key asked if he could go to the bathroom. He was still feeling rather ill and he knew if he didn’t get some air soon, he would likely puke all over the officers. Dr. Choi had also given him a few pain killers to hold him over during the questioning which must have been stronger than the prescription ones because he felt like he was practically having an out of body experience. 

 

The officers agreed to let him go but only under the condition that they be able to stand guard outside the restroom and immediately escort him back to Dr. Choi’s office once he was finished. Key agreed. All he needed was a “yes”, if his plan worked out accordingly, whatever happened outside that bathroom stall would never matter to him. 

 

When Dr. Choi had left the room to get Key his medicine and invite the police up to his office, Key seized the opportunity to find the sharpest utensil in the room. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t very well let the police cart him off to jail but he would also rather die than tell a single soul what happened to him in those barracks…and that’s exactly what he planned to do. 

 

He was ready now. In a way he hadn’t been ready until this moment. Incident after incident in this whole mess kept dragging him down, hacking away at his power; his humanity bit by bloody bit. Taking matters into his own hands…taking his own life…this was the last and only way he could show everyone that he still had a measure of control. 

 

After a frantic search, he finally found a pair of surgical scissors, shoved him in his pocket, and put the room back in order just before Dr. Choi came back in with the officers. 

 

Key had endured their invasive questions as long as he could, taking solace in the hard steel instrument in his pocket as their inquiries dug into him.  
Now, sitting alone in the windowless bathroom stall, he held the scissors in his right hand. The sharp tip gleamed in the harshly lit bathroom like a laser pointed directly at the veins in his left wrist.

 

_“Come on, come on…fucking do it. Hurry before they drag you back up there.”_ He muttered to himself. He was sure he could do just a few minutes earlier…he’d even been strangely excited about the whole thing but now, somehow, he felt terrified. 

 

Suddenly, he heard the door swing open and the footsteps of someone walking into the stall beside his. The sound made him jump and the scissors clattered to the floor. Key bent down to retrieve them but his shaking hands accidently propelled the scissors into the next stall. They made a sickening clunk against the occupant’s shoe. 

 

For a moment, there was pure silence. Then, the man in the adjacent stall bent down and picked up the scissors. 

 

“Shit,” Key muttered to himself. He saw every last chance at his freedom siphoning away in that moment. 

 

“Uhm…” a voice from the next stall called out. “You dropped something but…honestly…I don’t know if I should give it back.”

 

Key let out a mirthless laugh. 

 

“Just…pass them back, please. I need to cut the tags off my new clothes…” he made a face at himself for doling out such a lame and shameless lie. 

 

He heard the toilet next door flush and the stall door swing open. 

 

“Those police men outside the door…do they have anything to do with you?” The voice asked him over the low dribbling sounds of water filtering down the sink.

 

“ _Aish_ …who the hell are you asking me all these questions, telling me what to do!?” Key called out, thoroughly annoyed. 

 

“Are you in trouble?” The voice asked softly. 

 

“Yah! Who the hell do you think you are. What stranger starts a conversation in the bathroom like this?”

 

“I’m not a stranger. We’ve met before,” the voice sounded slightly amused but mostly concerned. 

 

Key didn’t respond. Gripped with fear, he immediately suspected someone was playing a joke on him. He drew himself closer to the back of the stall.  
“My name is Min Yoongi…we met…well…sort of met…a few weeks ago. I called the nurses for you when your leg was bleeding.”

 

Key’s eyes grew wide inside of his skull. He moved back toward the door and put out his hand to open it, but hesitated. “You shouldn’t hang around here too long. I think they’re listening,” he whispered. 

 

“Okay, we’ll use Morse Code then,” Yoongi suggested. “But modified. Knock once for yes, two for no.”

 

Key felt something strange on his face and realized it was a smile. 

 

“Ready?” Yoongi whispered. 

 

Key knocked once. 

 

“Did you just lie to me about what you were doing with these scissors?”

 

One knock. 

 

“Do those police men know what you’re doing in here?”

 

Two knocks.

 

“Are you trying to hurt yourself so you can get away from them?”

 

A long pause, but then, finally, one knock. 

 

“Do you need help?”

 

Key again, longer this time. Even if he said yes, what could this man do for him? Not even Dr. Choi could absolve the very serious issues that were facing him. How could this beautiful, but very average man hope to resolve this mess on his own?

 

Just then, Key saw the man’s pale hand sliding a phone under the stall.

 

“Type in the name of your doctor and where they are taking you,” Yoongi whispered. 

 

Key picked up the phone with shaking hands and quickly typed in every last piece of information he cold think to provide, then slid it back under the door.

 

“Okay. I got it,” Yoongi assured him. “I’m going to leave now…but don’t worry. I’ll do my best to help you…and I’m taking the scissors with me by the way.”

 

Key heard the bathroom door open then swing shut again.


	9. Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that are curious, I have deleted the previous chapter as I did not include sufficient trigger warnings about its sensitive content. I apologize to any reader who may have been hurt or offended by the work's subject matter. I have reworked the plot points of this story moving forward so that they will not mirror or replicate any real-life events that have happened, beyond coincidence. I hope you still can/will enjoy the rest of this work. Thank you :)

Yoongi sat next to Jiyun, carefully sketching the last few contours of his latest drawing. It was the day Jiyun had met Jia for the first time.

 

Jiyun had been out of surgery for a few hours and swayed in and out of consciousness, occasionally lucid enough to hold a conversation for a few minutes before sliding back under. Just as Yoongi was adding the final touches to Jiyun's drawn mouth, her real-life one let out a sigh.

 

He looked up and smiled at her. She seemed more alert this time, like she could remain awake for a meaningful stretch of time.

 

"Hey sleepyhead," Yoongi cooed as he put the paper and pencil aside. "How are you feeling?"

 

Jiyun looked around the room, as if trying to see who all might be around, until her eyes landed back on her father. Looking disappointed, she shrugged and didn’t say anything. 

 

Yoongi felt his face fall. “Is everything okay?” 

 

"That’s a stupid question,” she said thickly. 

 

Yoongi baulked at her unexpected brazenness but didn’t reprimand her. He reasoned that she was still pumped full of medication and probably wasn’t fully aware of what was going on; what she had just been through. In any case, she was right, it was a stupid question.

 

“Here, drink some water. Mama Kim will get mad at both of us if you don’t…”

 

“I don’t care! Stop fussing over me! I’m fine!” Jiyun shouted with as much strength as she could muster. Her skin had gone grey again but the blood that boiled into her delicate features made it glow an angry red. Her eyes were nearly black and lacked any shine at all. For a brief moment, Yoongi didn’t know who he was looking at. 

 

“Jiyun-ah, that’s enough!” He hushed her. He couldn’t begin to guess why her mood had taken on such a dark and uncharacteristic turn. She’d gone in to get the tumor in her heart removed but it seemed more like she’d just been through a lobotomy.

 

The little girl huffed with visible anger, her small fists clenched in rage. “I’m sick of being in this hospital! I’m sick of being stuck in this bed! I’m sick of you!” Tears began to leak down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him.

 

Yoongi blinked for a moment, completely unsure what he should do. He wasn’t allowed to touch her so he couldn’t hold her hand or stoke her hair or hug her; the normal ways he had always comforted her. 

 

“Jiyun-ah…” he called to her quietly. “Look at me.”

 

“Go away!!!” She shouted so furiously that a nurse passing by in the hall stopped and peeked into the room.  
“She’s fine,” Yoongi assured her. The nurse nodded and left. 

 

“You’re making me mad just by being here!!!” Jiyun shouted once they were alone again. “I want Mama Kim. I don’t want you!”

 

Yoongi couldn’t understand where all of this was coming from and so suddenly. “Mama Kim is probably busy…why can’t I…?”

 

“Because you’re annoying! You’re always here! I’m sick of you!” Jiyun turned back to face him, face streaked in tears, red and wet. She was Jiyun, his beautiful Jiyun, but the more he looked at her the less he could recognize her. He’d never seen her this upset in her entire life. A slight shock settled over him but he pushed passed it and knelt down beside her bed. 

 

“Jiyun…”

 

“GO AWAY!” Her shrieks tore through the room again and this time two nurses filed in from the hallway.

 

Yoongi got to his feet and stumbled backward a bit as the two women closed ranks around Jiyun’s bedside.

 

“What’s going on in here?” Dr. Kim entered the room a few seconds later. She gave Yoongi and accusatory look but it melted away when she saw his devastated expression. 

 

Dr. Kim looked to Jiyun who was curled into herself, letting out weak, wet sobs into her pillow.

 

“I’ll leave her to you two. Make her as comfortable as possible,” Dr. Kim warned the nurses. 

 

They nodded and Dr. Kim took Yoongi out of the room and down the hallway to her office. 

 

“What was that about?” She asked him as she shut the door.

 

Yoongi collapsed into a chair on the other side of her desk and shook his head. He felt completely numb. “I’ve never seen her like that…”

 

“That makes two of us…” Dr. Kim sighed. 

 

“She said she wanted you.”

 

Dr. Kim sighed and looked at her watch. “My shift doesn’t end for two more hours. You know the rules about the care I’m allowed to provide her.”

 

“I know…I know…but…fuck the rules. Something is wrong with her…I mean, beyond the cancer. She’s been getting more and more moody withdrawn…now she’s yelling…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do for her. She needs you. She needs…”

 

“A mother?” Dr. Kim suggested. 

 

Yoongi bit back the anger her felt over that word. “Yes.”

 

“Yoongi, she’s a nine-year-old girl. Granted, she’s dealing with something most girls her age never have to go through, but at the end of the day, she’s still just like the rest of them. You were always going to have to deal with these hormonal outbursts one day and, as parents, none of us get to choose where and when they happen. You’re both under a lot of stress. Just give her some time to cool down.”

 

“You’re right…I know you’re right,” Yoongi sighed into his hands and a small silence fell around them until Dr. Kim spoke up again.

 

“Namjoon talked to you about the girls’ mother?” 

 

“There you guys go again with the coordination,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you, just like I told him, one crisis at a time.”

 

“I’m only saying what you’ve said yourself a dozen times. The girls need her. Don’t you think that’s the more important issue? Forgiveness can do a lot to heal some of this pain that you’re feeling.”

 

“Do you always have to be right?!” Yoogi grumbled. 

 

Dr. Kim smiled and told him to go get something to eat. 

 

 

 

**Namjoon**

 

Yoongi had cried on Namjoon's shoulder for the second time in two days, which was incredibly troubling for him. In all the years he had known Min Yoongi, these were the only two times he could ever remember seeing him so distraught. Though he knew the situation absolutely called for this raw display of emotion, it did nothing to help Namjoon's unrequited love for his best friend. 

 

He'd always loved him. He couldn't remember a time when Yoongi wasn't occupying the center of his heart, sometimes making it beat more efficiently that even his own body could but he forced his feelings away. He knew Yoongi could never love him back in the same way and he knew it was shameful to expect that to ever change. Still, as he leaned his soft, tender body into Namjoon and shook with sobs that afternoon, the younger man couldn't help but let his mind unhinge with pleasure. It wasn't that he enjoyed Yoongi's misery. Far from it. He simply enjoyed this new level of intimacy. He had always craved the chance to hug and hold Yongi close to him but, until now, Yoongi would have never allowed it.

 

After a long, exhausting afternoon of talking and crying, Yoongi finally chanced re-entrance into Jiyun's room later that evening. She was asleep when both Yoongi and Namjoon walked in.

 

Dr. Kim had laid out a pallet bed beside Jiyun's and Namjoon ordered Yoongi to lay down on it. "Just close your eyes and rest. It's been a long few days."

 

Yoongi silently obeyed and within minutes he was also asleep.

 

Namjoon sighed with relief as he pulled the blankets over Yoongi's exhausted body. 

 

"I knew he wouldn't stay away," Jiyun's voice suddenly filled the room. 

Namjoon started but gave her a weak smile. “Can’t sleep?” Namjoon asked as he pulled up a chair beside the other side of Jiyun’s bed. 

 

She sighed and flopped her arms down into her lap. The book she was holding fell shut and she gave him a look that exceeded her 9 years of life. “No. It’s too uncomfortable. I wish I was home.”

 

Namjoon spared a quick glance in Yoongi’s direction. He was curled up on his side on the wooden pallet, his denim jacket rode up in the back and the cotton grey hood fell over his face. He looked like a college student passed out after pulling an all nighter. He wanted to say something to Jiyun about having a piece of home right beside her but he knew she was far too mature to hear something so soft.

 

She looked at her father and rolled her eyes. “I wish he would stop worrying so much,” she mumbled. 

 

“You had a fight today.” Namjoon searched her face for a motive. He could understand how Jiyun felt. As gentle and caring as she was, this disease had changed more that just her physical self. She was sick. Things were tense. And, despite the brave face she put on, she was still a scared little girl. 

 

“We fight all the time lately. It’s nothing new,” she shrugged and mindlessly thumbed a few pages of the book in her lap.

 

“He really cares about you, Jiyun. He’s just trying to…”

 

“Uncle Namjoon…please don’t treat me like I’m some stupid kid, I thought you knew me better than that.” there was a sharp bite to her voice as she turned her auburn eyes on him. Even in the dim light, they shone like precious stones; clear and bright and beyond compare. “Everyone thinks I’m so innocent, like I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not a baby. I know I’m going to die. The surgery didn’t work.”

 

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His face felt unbearably hot.

 

Jiyun caught his gaze and seemed to sway in her resolve to continue her own sentence. Namjoon always looked so genuine, not at all like the other adults who gave her those sad, fake smiles she detested so much; not like her father who seemed to vacate his own body every time he looked at her. Namjoon was here; present; always waiting for her cues. 

 

She drew in a little breath and continued. “We fought because he won’t be honest with me,” she said. She nudged her chin in Yoongi’s direction with a sulking expression. “Everyone just thinks I’m sleeping most of the time so they say things they don’t think I can hear but I hear almost everything. I even know most of the nurses just by the sound of their voices,” she smiled to herself. 

 

Namjoon felt a melancholic sense of amusement at this confession. It didn’t surprise him that Jiyun had often faked sleep. She had always been a fantastic actress.  


Once, when she was three, during breakfast, she stopped mid-bite, climbed to a standing position on her chair and held out a cereal box for everyone at the table to see. “Everyone in the WORLD should know this cereal! It’s the most yummiest, tasty cereal EVER! You can buy it at the store now!!” She’d shouted. When everyone’s laughter and puzzlement cleared up, Yoongi asked her what on earth she was talking about. Jiyun had simply responded that she thought everyone needed a commercial break. The story had become famous within the Min/Kim family, even though Jiyun herself couldn’t remember having done it.

 

Namjoon smiled at the memory as he gazed upon Jiyun’s still-infantile face. Because he knew she had a penchant for acting, he’d made sure all of his serious conversations with Yoongi had been out of the room and out of Jiyun’s ear shot. He wondered if that’s why she seemed to trust him just a little more than Yoongi to confide her feelings. 

 

“My dad, the doctors, the nurses, they’ve always said that I don’t have more than a few months but I can feel it…It’s probably less. They’re always telling my dad how pretty I am, how lucky he is to have such a cute child, they’re trying to make him feel better but nothing can make him feel better. The worst thing I hear, every day, is the sound of my dad crying. He thinks he’s being quiet; he thinks I can’t hear him but he’s wrong. He cries so sadly, right beside me and he holds my hand so tightly sometimes it almost hurts but I just lay there, and I pretend like I don’t know what’s going on. I just pretend like he’s not there because I know that’s what he wants. He can’t cry anywhere else. Next to me, in this room, is the only place he can cry.”

 

Namjoon felt terrible. “Jiyun…your dad has me…and he has the apartment he can go to when he’s tired of me…you don’t need to take on that burden all on your own…”

 

Jiyun shook her head and cast her gaze down to her hands. “Uncle Namjoon…you’ve been my dad’s friend for practically his whole life but you still don’t know him. The way he cries when he’s in here…he can’t do it in front of you. He tells me things I’m positive he’s never told anyone else.”

 

Namjoon leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t quite believe Jiyun was still just a child. She had most definitely inherited Yoongi’s cunning mind. She noticed everything with such clarity and conviction. Even through the haze of her own illness, she could grasp truths far beyond her years. In another life, Namjoon imagined her as the head of some prestigious law firm, or perhaps a powerful politician fighting for the rights and freedoms of others. His heart ached with the cold reality that Jiyun would most likely be gone before her next birthday and the world would be a lesser place for it. He tried to look at her with an expression that showed more understanding than pity. He didn’t pity her. He pitied the situation. He pitied death. Why did it have to be so tactless as to come looking for a girl as bright and capable as Min Jiyun?

 

“I hate it,” she whispered. “I hate that he only let’s everything out when he thinks I can’t hear him. He’s such a liar.” She made a small fist and gently knocked it against her leg.

 

Namjoon was confused. He didn’t know what Yoongi said to Jiyun during those moments but he was sure they weren’t lies. 

 

“It’s a lie,” Jiyun went on to explain, “because as soon as I open my eyes he wipes his tears away like they never existed, like I’m too dumb to notice what he was doing. He just gives me that stupid smile like he wants me to believe everything is okay; like he wants me to believe he’s happy. He’s always giving me that fake smile and it makes me sick. It makes me hate him. Why won’t he just talk to me? I have so many things I want to say to my dad but…the guy that shows up at my bedside every day isn’t my dad. He’s a faker and he’s a liar.”

 

The weight of what Jiyun had just confessed to him was palpable. He thought carefully about what he would say next but he lost his concentration when he realized she was wiping tears off her cheeks. Her slender white fingers caught the droplets so effectively Namjoon dropped the idea of looking for a tissue.  
“Jiyun-ah…” Namjoon called out to her softly. “Your dad is an idiot.”

 

They both erupted with quiet laughter. 

 

“He really is. But more than he’s an idiot, he’s also incredibly sad. Do you remember when SamSung died?” Namjoon asked her. SamSung was the Kim family dog. He’d been an old little thing when Jiyun was born but she grew up with him until around the age of five when, suddenly, the dog could no longer walk and they had to put him down. “Do you remember how sad you were?”

 

Jiyun nodded slowly. 

 

“How did you describe your feelings to Mama Kim?”

 

“I told her that it felt like my insides had flipped inside out. Like everything hurt because I missed him so much.”

 

Namjoon nodded and gave her a gentle smile. “I think, maybe your dad is feeling like that right now. Maybe all of his organs and bones and stuff are inside out. He’s still learning how to live in that new position. That’s why it looks like he’s not the same person anymore.”

 

She let that sink in and gave a small nod. 

 

“Look, I’m not saying it’s your responsibility to tell your dad what you’re feeling. You’re the kid and he’s supposed to be the adult. You have enough to deal with as it is. All I’m saying is that he’s not faking you out on purpose.” 

 

“He used to be so happy,” she whispered. “Like…too happy, almost.”

 

“I know,” Namjoon felt his chest tighten. 

 

“Since he was really young when he had me, it always felt like he was my big brother rather than my dad. All my friends’ parents are stuffy old people who never let them do anything fun. My dad is still in his 20s so I always felt lucky that he was willing to do crazy things with me. Do you remember the time, we all jumped into the Han River together and splashed around until the sun went down?”

 

Namjoon nodded, feeling his chest tighten all the more.

 

“And do you remember all the times he let me and Jia stay up until after midnight even though Mama Kim told him not to and he made us our favorite foods while we watched movies together?”

 

“Your dad is actually a pretty amazing cook.”

 

“I hope he becomes a chef again one day…” she sighed. Yoongi's job, before Jiyun had gotten sick, was head chef at a small cafe in town. His talent exceeded his humble surroundings but he always told everyone how much he loved his job. Jiyun had been proud of him. “You know how, every Friday my friends were allowed over? He’d have dance parties with us in the living room…they all had crushes on him and complimented his cooking so he would pay more attention to them.” Jiyun smiled proudly but with a touch of embarrassment. “He always tried to be strict and say that they had to leave in the morning but then we’d all challenge him to a dance off and before we knew it, it would be too late for them to go home and they ended up staying until Sunday. Mama Kim wasn’t happy at all.”

 

“She was,” Namjoon assured her. “She loves having people running around the house, despite what she says.”

 

“Well…we are a big family. I guess she gets her wish all the time.”

 

There was a small pause and they both looked over at Yoongi who was sleeping so soundly he hadn’t changed his position on the pallet once. Namjoon could hardly remember Yoongi as the cool, young dad. He could barely recall his true smile; the smile that touched his eyes and warmed the contours of his attractive face. There was a vibrancy in Yoongi that even a trauma like this couldn’t completely put out, but still, he was a shadow of himself. 

 

“He was always there for me…until I needed him most. Now, I guess you’re right. Maybe he doesn’t know how…” 

 

Namjoon wanted to say give him time but they all knew that wasn’t an option. Time was not on their side and even if it were, how could any parent get used to the idea of losing their child? Armed with Jiyun’s raw and earnest confession, Namjoon knew he would have to somehow tell Yoongi where he was missing the mark. Before he could wonder if that was even his place, Jiyun was speaking again.

 

“My dad never really had any friends besides you. I guess our mom was his friend, too, maybe.”

 

Namjoon shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Sunhee. Despite heaviness of their current talk, it seemed that the topic of Jiyun’s mother was on another level, far from his grasp. He hoped Jiyun wouldn’t want to talk about her. 

 

“Anyway…you can talk to him, right? Can you ask him to stop being weird and tell him to just go back to normal? If I have to say it to him again I think I might go crazy.”

 

Namjoon let out a sigh of relief and gave her a solid nod. He tried to keep the expression in his eyes as soft and genuine as he could. The poor girl looked utterly exhausted after having shared so much. 

 

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. “Though I’m not fluent in idiot,” he teased her. 

 

She flashed him her beautiful smile and leaned back into the pillows as if she were truly untensing for the first time; her mental burden lightened somewhat. “Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?” Her voice sounded more her age for the first time in their conversation and Namjoon found himself untensing as well. 

 

“Of course,” he assured her softly. 

 

She reached out and grabbed his hand. As she locked her lily-white fingers around his, he resisted the urge to pull away. It had been ingrained in him not to touch her but she knew the rule just as well as he did and, perhaps as a silent acceptance of her fate, or desperate need of human touch, she was ready to break that rule and he agreed. Her hand was warm and soft, like flower petals kissed by the sun. The slow brush of her pulse nearly sang out in its beautiful rhythm. For now, she was alive. He felt that strange surge of emotion swell up inside of his chest again.

 

Jiyun closed her eyes and within minutes she was breathing in deep, slumbered breaths. Namjoon blinked away the moisture in his eyes as he looked at Yoongi, sleeping just as soundly as his daughter. How easy, he thought, it is to hold someone’s hand and fool yourself into thinking it can keep them from leaving.


	10. Good Night

Yoongi and Namjoon took a rare respite from the hospital the day after Yoongi and Jiyun’s fight. Jiyun has firm in her resolve to give Yoongi the cold shoulder and completely beside himself with frustration, he had no idea what to do. Namjoon suggested that they leave for a while to give everyone a chance to cool down. If circumstances had been different, Yoongi would have jumped at the chance to escape his daughter’s frosty mood but as it was, Namjoon had to practically scalpel Yoongi out of the hospital grounds and wrestle him into the car. 

 

“Hi, I’m here to remind you that you have other family members, namely another child. Her name is Jia. She’d like to have dinner with you. I think you owe her that much.” Namjoon was firmly in Yoongi’s face as he huffed angrily about leaving. 

 

“Yes, I know, okay. It’s just, anything could happen.”

 

“Yeah, and it’s going to happen weather your pasty butt is sitting in that room with Jiyun or not. Jesus Yoongi, sometimes I feel like _I’m_ the one with three kids,” Namjoon grumbled. 

 

Yoongi reached over and smacked Namjoon on the head before folding his arms across his chest and staring out the window. The pout never left his lips. 

 

Jia and the Kim family were ecstatic to see Yoongi. It had been months since he’d shown his face at the house and even he had to admit it felt incredibly relaxing to be “home”. They enjoyed a delicious meal, which Yoongi ate willfully and leaned back in their chairs with full bellies and happy faces. Despite Jiyun’s obvious absence, everyone allowed the somberness of their time together to take the edge off. 

 

“Yoongi, is that a smile on your face?” Kyungmin, Namjoon’s little sister accused. 

 

“It’s gas,” Namjoon answered for him.

 

“You have my permission to smack him,” said Mrs. Kim, or “Mama Kim” as they all affectionately called her.

 

Yoongi faked Namjoon out by bringing his hand back and stopping it just short of his head. “You’re lucky Jia is here. I can’t set a bad example for her over you.” Yoongi motioned to the small girl curled up against his chest.

 

“Looks like she’s asleep,” Mama Kim said poignantly. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” she gave Yoongi a wink.

 

Yoongi looked down at his daughter and gently brushed the hair away from her forehead. She was, in fact, sleeping. “I should get her to bed,” he sighed. It had been a while since he’d tucked her in himself and he missed having those moments with her. 

 

“Sounds good. Namjoon and Dr. Kim will do the dishes since we slaved over this meal you all inhaled,” Mama Kim announced. She stood up and placed a kiss on the top of Yoongi’s head as she walked out of the kitchen. 

 

“Thank you,” Yoongi whispered to both Mama Kim and Kyungmin before they disappeared. 

 

 

Upstairs, Yoongi laid Jia on her tummy over top the futon they shared and gently rubbed her back as she stirred in her sleep. Once she was settled, he kissed her temple and gently brushed the hair away from her face. He ran a tired hand through his own hair and let out a giant yawn. He opened his eyes just in time to see Dr. Kim making his way down the hall to his private office. 

 

Yoongi sprang to his feet and caught up within just before he disappeared for the evening. Even with all of the chaos and emotion of his own situation, Yoongi still hadn’t forgotten about his encounter with Key in the bathroom the day before. He still couldn’t explain why but he felt a deep calling to help him. It had been a feeling that erupted inside of him the day the so ungracefully met and with every brief encounter since then, his desire to protect the man grew a little more. He could only assume that taking care of Jiyun had put him the mindset that he needed to save and care for every disadvantaged person he encountered, which probably wasn’t healthy. Still, Yoongi wanted to be of service to someone. Feeling like a failure to his own child wasn’t any fun at all and if he could somehow successfully “save” someone else, he was more than willing to try. 

 

“Hey, Dr. Kim. I have something I want to talk to you about.”

 

Dr. Kim gave him a warm smile and held the door of his office open for him.

 

Yoongi took a seat and Dr. Kim leaned back in his chair, waiting for him to begin. Dr. Kim had always been a man of few words so Yoongi knew that Namjoon had gotten his big mouth from Mama Kim. 

 

Yoongi fished his phone out of his pocket and opened up the “notes” app. He slid the device across the desk for Dr. Kim to read. 

 

“I got this information from a high-profile patient at the hospital. I think he’s being interrogated somewhere in the building by some corrupt police officers. I don’t now the whole story but I thought I would let you know. Since he’s so famous, if anything happens because of these police men, it could look really bad for the hospital’s reputation.”

 

Dr. Kim read the information on the phone. He did, indeed, know of the situation but Dr. Choi had reported it to him very differently. He had no idea Key was being threatened with jail time if his answers weren’t to these officers’ liking. It sounded an awful lot like blackmail and he couldn’t have that.

 

Dr. Kim slid the phone back to Yoongi and placed his chin on pointed fingers as he thought about what to do.

 

“How did you find out this information?” Dr. Kim finally asked. 

 

Yoongi felt slightly embarrassed but explained the whole situation. 

 

“I see,” Dr. Kim nodded. “I think I have enough information. I will get right to work on this. Thank you, Yoongi, for telling me.”

 

Yoongi gave the man a small bow and stood to leave but Dr. Kim stopped him. “Oh, and, Mrs. Kim told me about what happened with Jiyun yesterday,” he usually hardened expression softened to look much more approachable, “as the father of a daughter I can tell you this will pass. She won’t be angry with you forever.”

 

Yoongi knew just as well as Dr. Kim that that wasn’t a possibility anyway but he was deeply thankful that Dr. Kim had over looked that fact and had spoken to him as if everything were normal; as if everything weren’t completely falling apart. 

 

 

A few days later, Yoongi found himself nervously entering another doctor’s private office: Dr. Lim. The results of Jiyun’s latest tests had come in and there was a lot to discuss. Contrary to Dr. Kim’s promises from a few night’s earlier, Jiyun still hadn’t thawed and now that she was becoming more and more lethargic, Yoongi had less opportunities to make amends with her. He feared the worst as he approached Dr. Lim’s office.

 

Dr. Lim motioned for Yoongi to have a seat across from him. He clasped his hands, brown with age spots; rough and nervous. 

 

Yoongi felt like his stomach was about to explode. His heart was pounding nearly out of his chest and he couldn’t seem to swallow. Despite the December chill that filled nearly every corner of Daegu, this office seemed unforgivably hot. His mouth felt like it had been packed with cotton balls and he could feel sweat dripping down his back. The nerves were killing him.

 

Dr. Lim leaned forward and sighed, as he spread out some documents on the desk between them. He pulled out two X-rays from a manila folder and shoved them onto the lightboard behind him.

 

Yoongi strained his eyes as he tried to make sense of the glowing white sinews that crisscrossed over top of bones and muscles. He was scanning for it; that horrible mass of uncontrollable cells; that vile thing that siphoned the life out of his child. He couldn’t see it and, for a moment, allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope.  
They’ve taken it out. It’s gone. A small voice sang out. 

 

Yoongi hushed it. He knew better than to get too carried away with hope. The fall was just too damn painful. Anyway, he could see it all over Dr. Lim ’s face. The news was not good. Before he said a single word, Yoongi felt his face flash with heat, his dry throat clenched, his heart raced out of control. He thought he might be sick. He knew, he just knew.

 

Dr. Lim noticed his discomfort and let out a small sigh. He returned to his chair and made his voice as low and calm as he could. “The cancer,” he began calmly, “has metastasized. While we were waiting for her to get strong enough to handle the heart surgery, the disease spread to her lungs and kidneys. We will try to make her as comfortable as possible…I’ve already instructed the nurses to….”

 

Yoongi wasn’t listening anymore. There was a painful ringing in his ears, he was sure he was going to be sick. His blood wasn’t where it was supposed to be; it wasn’t circulating at all. 

 

“…Okay?” Dr. Lim was looking into Yoongi’s eyes now, trying to catch his gaze. 

 

Yoongi felt the sound rush back to his ears; the sensation of needing to throw up filled his gut. He gave the doctor a weak nod, completely unsure as to what was ‘okay’, and tried to get to his feet. He caught himself on the chair as the room swayed around him. He would have to stay put for now rather he liked it or not.

 

“I understand this is difficult news to hear,” Dr. Lim tried to empathize but it only sounded cold and mechanical.

 

“You’re…you’re telling me that’s it? There’s nothing else you can do f-for her?” his voice sounded like a jagged line scratched into cement. 

 

“We can make her comfortable.”

 

Yoongi let out a low groan into his hands. He couldn’t stand being in that room another second. He needed to get to Jiyun. He needed to see her with his own eyes. If he could just see her and hold her he knew could fix her. He could make this right. It was his job as her father protect her and he was going to figure out how no matter what any doctor told him.

 

He stood up again, with more success and forced his way out of the room and down the hall. He only made it a few feet before his legs became too numb to move. He sunk to the floor in a heap of misery. He didn’t know weather to be sick or to cry so he just sat there, unable to do anything but stare blankly at his knees. 

 

Luckily, Namjoon had known about the consultation beforehand and decided to wait for Yoongi outside of Dr. Lim’s office if he needed him. Within seconds he had jogged up to Yoongi and was crouching down by his side.

 

“C’mon, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

 

Yoongi numbly got to his feet and clutched Namjoon with all his might as the taller man helped him into a lobby area full of chairs. They were the only ones there; the only sounds were Yoongi’s labored breaths and the low murmur of the evening news buzzing from and overhead TV.

 

“Breathe. Just take deep, slow breaths,” Namjoon cooed into Yoongi’s ear. “You don’t have to say anything, just try to breathe, that’s all.” 

 

“I’m going to be sick,” he warned Namjoon. 

 

“Okay. It’s okay…uhm…” Namjoon looked around for something Yoongi could use. There was no way he could make it to a bathroom in his state. Namjoon located a potted, decorative plant on the window sill. He ripped the plant out with haste and placed the pot under Yoongi’s mouth just in time. 

 

Yoongi wretched into the pot until his stomach couldn’t take anymore abuse. Namjoon rubbed his back through the whole ordeal, cooing soft words of encouragement to him until it was over. He was surprised at how adept he was becoming to this new intimacy he shared with Yoongi. He didn’t know if he was helping at all but he didn’t feel awkward or afraid of their new closeness either. He hated himself for enjoying it far more than he should. 

 

Yoongi sat up, in pain and exhausted. Namjoon handed him a towel from his bag and Yoongi did his best to wipe the snot and puke off his face. When he had come to his senses a bit more, he looked down at the pot, then gave a questioning look to Namjoon.

 

“Your dad’s not going to make me pay for a new plant, is he?”

 

Namjoon let his features rearrange into a smile. It felt nice. “I won’t tell him if you won’t.” 

 

Yoongi managed a small, wavering smile himself. 

 

Namjoon, thinking quickly, took the defiled pot and tossed it into a cleaning cart outside the restroom. The Janitor cleaning the bathroom would surely get an unwelcome surprise but Namjoon shrugged. “It’s a hospital, they’ve seen worse…”

 

Yoongi nodded a “thank you” and let his head lull back onto the chair. He barely had the strength to sit up.

 

Namjoon didn’t know what to say. He could only assume that whatever Yoongi heard in Dr. Lim’s office wasn’t good news. He watched him carefully and nodded to himself when he saw the first tears begin to leak from the corners of Yoongi’s eyes; confirmation. 

 

“It’s everywhere, Joon,” He sighed. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he spoke. “Her lungs…her kidneys…” a shutter ran through him and he covered his face with his hands. “She’s really going to die. He said there was nothing they could do…” Yoongi trailed off and leaned forward on his knees, like he might be sick again.

 

Though the words sank into him like knives, Namjoon did his best to remain composed. “We can get a second opinion. We can have my mom take a look. She’s the best there is. She’ll have solutions Dr. Lim could never dream of in a million years. We’ll keep fighting this Yoongi.”

 

Yoongi choked on a sob and shook his head no. “And if that doesn’t work?” he challenged. The rawness in his voice was palpable. “I get what you’re saying we should do and…because I’m selfish I want to keep fighting too but…this isn’t about me. This is about Jiyun.” Through bleary, red eyes, he looked up at Namjoon, pleading with him for something he couldn’t articulate. “She’s in so much pain…she doesn’t need any more tests or medicine or needles or broken promises…she deserves some measure of peace before this is all over. I’m not going to take that away from her.”

 

Namjoon nodded, completely in awe of his friend. Throughout the years of watching Yoongi parent his daughters, especially after Sunhee left, Namjoon had learned time and time again what true selflessness looked like. Now, when it mattered more than ever, he couldn’t have been more proud, or more heartbroken.  
“I need to talk to her about this,” Yoongi sighed into the back of his sleeve. “ _Fuck…I just have to get myself right before I go up there…”_

Namjoon suddenly recalled his conversation with Jiyun a few days earlier. 

 

_“He’s a liar. He pretends like he’s okay. I hate it.”_

 

“No,” Namjoon put a hand on Yongi’s shoulder and gave him a solemn look. “Show her this side of you.”

 

Yoongi cocked his head to the side, confused. 

 

Namjoon sighed and proceeded to tell Yoongi everything about his conversation with Jiyun. About her frustrations, her hopes, her worries, and her memories. When he was finished Yoongi leaned back in his chair, mouth slightly agape as if he were trying to process a difficult math equation.

 

“She felt that way all this time?”

 

Namjoon nodded. “I know. It’s hard to believe. The female mind is impossible to understand, even at this age.”

 

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair. “I am so screwed,” he mumbled. 

 

“One crisis at a time,” Namjoon chided him lightly. “So, do you think you’ll be okay to talk to her alone or do you need a trusty sidekick? I can’t promise you I’ll have the answers but I can find creative ways to catch your puke.”

 

Yoongi let out a coughing laugh and allowed a few more tears to drip down his cheeks. “Just be around when it’s over, please?”

 

“That I can do,” Namjoon smiled and tussled Yoongi’s hair before sending him off. 

 

Yoongi hung outside of her door for a few moments. The bile rose inside of him again and he knew there was a chance he could be sick again at any moment. The combination of immense stress, lack of sleep, and now this painful reality was running him ragged. He held onto the doorframe and forced himself to take a few deep breaths before entering the room. 

 

To his surprise, Jiyun was awake, tracking the images on the TV with her worn, black eyes. She didn’t see him right away and he savored the small moment he had to appreciate her beauty. Her skin was a maudlin grey color that looked nearly inhuman under the fluorescent lights. Her eyes were sunken into deep, brown pits that discolored the skin on her cheeks and brow line. Her lips were pale and cracked as if chipping away from her delicate face. She no longer possessed her glossy black hair or her beautifully bowed eyebrows or her sweeping lashes. Her bones stood on end against her skin. Still, he could only see his beautiful little girl. 

 

The sob that escaped him is what drew her attention. With effort, she turned her head to see where the sound had come from. Yoongi didn’t look away as their eyes met. 

 

“Dad,” she smiled. Tears brimmed her eyes as well. 

 

Yoongi nodded and drew himself closer to her bedside. Instead of sitting in the chair, he sunk to his knees and grabbed her hand in his. He bend his forehead into the soft flesh on the back of her hand and let himself cry for a moment. When he looked up, she was absolutely beaming at him.

 

“Uncle Namjoon talked to you?” she asked weakly. 

 

Yoongi nodded and laid a gentle kiss on her hand before bringing her palm up to the side of his face. He held it there, trying harder than ever to seal the memory of her warmth into his mind. “I am so sorry,” he breathed. “I was sitting beside you this whole time but I wasn’t showing my true self. You were so brave and all I could do was hide. I’m so sorry I left you alone like that.”

 

Jiyun shook her head. “It’s okay now.”

 

Yoongi shut his eyes and a few more tears rolled down his cheeks. “I’m here now. I promise you I won’t leave again.” 

 

“I’m happy,” she whispered. 

 

Yoongi opened his eyes and, again, was taken aback by her beauty. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Jiyun. She was his first child, his crash course in adult-hood, his best friend in the entire world and now…the source of his greatest heart break. He couldn’t understand how one little girl could cause so much love and devastation in her short life. 

 

“Jiyun-ah…I want to ask you something,” Yoongi began in a voice nearly drowned out by his own tears. 

 

She nodded slightly. He could see the understanding in her darkened eyes. Like him, she was a step ahead of the bad news but, unlike him, seemed willing to accept it. 

 

“Dr. Lim and I had a talk,” Yoongi looked down and played absently with the edge of her bedsheet and brought her hand down from his face.

 

“The surgery didn’t work,” she sighed. 

 

Yoongi snapped his head up. 

 

“I already knew, even a few days back. I can just tell.”

 

Yoongi’s face crumpled slightly and he let out a small gasp, like he’d just been punch in the gut. Though overcome with sadness, he also couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in his daughter for knowing herself so well. 

 

“It’s okay, dad. I’ve been having dreams, actually.”

 

“You have?” Yoongi managed a somewhat normal expression and wiped his eyes on the back of his hoodie sleeve. 

 

“Beautiful dreams,” she assured him. “I’m not afraid.”

 

Yoongi looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I don’t want you to be in pain anymore,” he whispered. “If you’re not afraid…” he trailed off. He should have known he and Jiyun would be on the same page. He didn’t even need to offer for Dr. Kim to keep searching for her cure. Jiyun was clear. No more needles, no more medicine, no more pain. She wanted it to be over and she was okay with it all. 

 

“I’m not afraid,” she repeated, and he believed her. 

 

He took up her hand again and ran his thumb over her snowy skin, getting lost in his thoughts. 

 

She fell asleep a few minutes later and didn’t wake up again. 

During the night she fell into a coma that never lifted. A few days later, she was gone.


	11. Old Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up getting pretty long. I might take it down and re-edit it but I probably won't lol. Enjoy :)

It was day five of the “inquisition” and Key was exhausted. He sat, arms folded across his chest, in the plush leather chair opposite Dr. Choi’s desk. 

 

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” one of the police officers said upon barging into the room. 

 

Key hadn’t bothered to learn their names much less train himself to respond to anything they had to say. He’d been truthful enough when it came to answering their questions, mostly out of curiosity as to how other human beings would react to what he suffered through, but he learned quickly that those police officers weren’t human. Even as he failed to hold back the tears on a few occasions, they barely flinched. Eventually, after talking about it so much, he became numb to his own truth and it got easier to provide all the details they were so hungry for. Though he felt sickened and drained at the end of their questionings, part of him hoped for redemption. The thought of being thrown in a jail cell wasn’t a pleasant one and all he could do was hope he had given them enough testimony to keep himself out of one. He was at their mercy.

 

Now, as one of the officers stood intimidatingly in the doorway, and the other gripped him by the arm, it was clear that they had made their decision.

 

“Where is Dr. Choi?” Key demanded. He used his last bits of strength to try and fight the officer off him. 

 

“He’s no longer a vital part of this investigation,” the officer explained gruffly. “You're under arrest.” 

 

Key managed to wrench his arm away with surprising strength but nearly fell out of the chair on his way back down. The other officer left his post at the door and with the both of them grabbing him all over his body, he had no chance at getting free. The two men dragged him out of the room, letting his injured leg drag on the floor behind him. He was so defeated he couldn’t even bring himself to scream out from the pain. He had no choice but to go as willingly as possible. 

 

Nothing felt real. It seemed to him that he was watching the scene from outside of his body. Watching as they all rounded the corner down the main corridor. Watching as they drew nearer to the elevator. Watching as confused nurses and orderlies took in the bizarre scene. Watching as…

 

“Stop!” a voice bounced down the opposite hallway and landed at their feet. 

 

Key returned to his body and looked around. A man he’d never seen before, befit in a long white lab coat and black rimmed glasses came jogging up to them. His light brown hair bounced on top of his head as he made his way over and the stethoscope around his neck caught the gleam of the sun filtering in through the windows. He looked young, possibly mid-twenties, but rather distinguished and clearly someone who knew his way around the hospital. 

 

“We have express orders to remove this man from the premises. He’s under arrest.” The officer to Key's left tightened his grip.

 

“It’s nice to meet you,” the man fully ignored what the officer had just said. “My name is Dr. Jung Hoseok. I’m the new transfer from Seoul. I work in the psychiatry ward and this man happens to be my patient.”

 

Key felt his face contort. His doctors were Dr. Choi and Dr. Ko. Had he really gone so crazy he had fused them into one unrecognizable doctor from out of town?

 

The officer let out a gruff burst of laughter and shoved passed the doctor. Despite his slight stature and apparent youthfulness, Dr. Jung was surprisingly strong and sidestepped the attack. He was now blocking the elevator with his body. “I’ve been in touch with your captain. At his insistence, you are to release this man to me.”

 

“Look, we don’t have time for this bullshit, move.” One of the officers gripped Key’s arm with such force that Key was certain his body was about to be used as a weapon against Dr. Jung. He silently pleaded with the stranger to just listen and get out of the way. 

 

Dr. Jung chanced a look at him and gave him a firm nod; a silent way of asking for trust. 

 

Just then, another doctor, far older than Dr. Jung but wearing almost the exact same outfit, made his way down the hall, his slim black phone pressed to his ear. He spoke loudly and made a show of keeping up a lively conversation with whoever it was on the other line. 

 

“Alright. Yes, I see them now. I will let them know. Thank you.” The older doctor, who Key also did not recognize, gave the officers a poignant once over and hung up the phone.

 

_What the hell is going on?_ Key wanted to shout. 

 

“I suppose you two gentlemen don’t know who I am, given the fact that you’re still not releasing this patient to his physician,” The older doctor waved a finger between the two officers who were looking more and more annoyed by the second. “My name is Dr. Kim. I own this hospital. It seems there’s be a grave misunderstanding between your precinct and my hospital. You see, this man has been illegally interrogated on my premises.”

 

The officers immediately let go of Key and he hobbled forward into Dr. Jung’s arms.

 

“It pains me to say this but it seems a few doctors on my staff, were easily fooled into believing the two of you had orders from your captain to bring false charges against this man," Dr. Kim motioned to Key. "Foolishly, they didn’t look into the matter as they should have. I now know it was because they had some reasons of their own to be afraid of law enforcement. Unfortunately for you, I did explore the matter. It seems your captain had no idea you were launching your own investigation here at the hospital." He paused and looked between the two of them as if he were a father questioning his sons about coming home after curfew.  
The officers suddenly looked like a pair of frightened children. 

Despite his pain and confusion, Key was amused. 

 

"As for this “arrest” you’re conducting, I can’t begin to guess what “charges” you’ve concocted up, or where you were planning to take Mr. Kim, but I can assure you, he is not the one who will be facing any trouble today.”

 

The officers seemed frozen with fear, like they were each trying to figure out which direction to run.

 

“Don't even think about running. You’ll both be coming with me. I’ll need to see every last piece of documentation you’ve accrued since you’ve been here. The more honest you are with me, the less this will hurt.” With the beckoning of his pointer finger, the officers accepted their fate and followed Dr. Kim down the hall and out of sight. 

 

Key deflated in Dr. Jung’s arms. Stress and terror washed over him in tumultuous waves.

 

“Take a seat, breathe,” Dr. Jung instructed him calmly. 

 

“Who the hell are you?” Key bit angrily. He had no intention of trusting this new face, or anyone else for that matter, ever again.

 

“My name is Dr. Hoseok Jung. I’ll be taking over both Dr. Ko and Dr. Choi’s duties from today. We can talk more about this in my office, if you’d like.” The doctor offered him a sunny smile that Key couldn’t help but trust.

 

As Dr. Kim revealed, the two officers were, in fact, sent to falsely imprison Key. Though they were official policemen, they had not received those orders from their captain. They’d received them from an anonymous source, someone, perhaps, from the military. Dr. Choi and Dr. Ko had been blackmailed into accepting their terms for questioning Key. Both of them had malpractice lawsuits hanging over their heads and were terrified that they could be found guilty if they didn't cooperate. They sold Key out to save themselves. Once he found out about all of this, Key felt like he had been physically violated all over again. He’d told those men everything. How could he have been so stupid? _So desperate?_ To realize now that it was all a lie; a cruel extension to what ever sick fucking joke was being played on him…he couldn’t stand it. 

 

Dr. Jung had tried to convince Key to stay in his office and calm down but almost as soon as the door shut behind him, he wanted out. Dr. Jung was kind enough to respect his wishes and escorted him to a taxi. 

 

Key realized, once he was in the cab, that he had no idea where he wanted to go. He couldn’t stomach the thought of going back to his apartment, where he’d spent the last three nights being physically ill after those long hours of interrogation. He couldn’t very well show his face to his parents who, at his insistence, had not called or bothered him since his mother dropped by with those papers.

 

_Those papers._

 

Key suddenly remembered the land title his mother left on the counter. When he looked at the papers again, after he was a bit more sober, he also realized she’d left behind a key. He’d put it in his wallet, forever intending to go to Sidorim Café when he finally felt well enough, but obviously never getting the chance. Until now.  
He told the cab driver the address to his grandmother’s café.

 

 

**Yoongi**

Yoongi knew he needed to make that phone call. Regardless of how he felt about Sunhee’s abandonment, they needed to have a conversation about everything that had happened, especially why, despite being begged to attend, Sunhee had not attended Jiyun’s funeral. Initially he told the Kims that he could handle the interaction on his own but now, having sat in his room for nearly an hour, numbly staring at the phone in his hands and shaking from head to toe, he wasn’t so sure. Everything about the situation made him want to jump clean out of his skin.

 

He heaved a sigh and routinely wiped at the moisture on his cheeks. Tears had been leaking out of his eyes so uncontrollably in the last few days, he hardly realized he was crying anymore. Like breathing, the sadness that rolled in and out of his body had become natural; automatic. He couldn’t deny that the embarrassment over his vulnerability contributed to his hesitation to calling Sunhee. When she left, he vowed to never appear defenseless. Back then, he was positive he could be stronger than anything she threw his way. But that was before he realized she was only a small battle in a much larger war; before he any idea just how crippling it would be to lose Jiyun. He wanted to laugh at his arrogance. It wasn’t humanly possible to be stronger than this horrible loss, no matter who he wanted to put on an act for.

 

There was a gentle knock at his door and before he could invite them in, he saw Jia’s face in the doorway. His smile was instant and he held out his arms for her. She crawled into his lap and snuggled against his chest. He blinked a few tears into her hair as he held her close. 

 

“Jia!” Mama Kim hissed as she huffed up the stairs after the little girl. “Appa is busy…”

 

Yoongi lifted his head up and gave it a small shake. 

 

Mama Kim looked at the two Mins curled around each other and smiled, shutting the door behind her as she left. 

 

“Jia-bug,” Yoongi called to his daughter. “Did you eat breakfast?”

 

“I’m not hungry again,” she said into the fabric of his shirt. “I want to eat breakfast with Jiyunnie.”

 

Yoongi felt physical pain whenever Jia asked for her older sister. He wondered if that would ever go away. “Maybe Jiyunnie is waiting to have breakfast with you. It must be getting late in Heaven.”

 

“They don’t eat in Heaven, dad. They’re too busy.”

 

Yoongi sniffled and held Jia up to look into her eyes. “What are they so busy with do you think?” 

 

“Being angels and…and…” Jia paused and looked around the room for a minute. Yoongi could see her imagination igniting in her bright, curious eyes. “Well, God tells them they have to play their instruments because that’s what angels do. They play and play and play and play all day. So when it’s finally over they don’t have any time for…for breakfast or anything.”

 

Yoongi smiled through his tears and gave her a nod of understanding. When Jiyun had passed, both he and the Kims decided it would be best to be as honest as possible with Jia about the whole thing, despite how much she might be able to understand. The only bit of “fiction” they had inserted was that Jiyun wasn’t really gone, she was in heaven. Yoongi used to vaguely believe in such a concept but throughout the whole ordeal of caring for Jiyun and now, loosing her, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Jia, on the other hand, had glommed onto this concept more fiercely than anything else. She was transfixed by the idea that there was still some way to remain connected to her sister, even if she was in such a far away place. In the days since her passing, she had deemed herself an expert in all things “Heaven” and had come to them all with countless “facts” about what went on there. She was extremely certain about her facts and Yoongi found a strange sense of comfort in her confidence. 

 

Yoongi hugged her to his chest again and noticed that the shaking in his body had begun to subside as her warmth spread across him. He tried to be thankful for what he still had but his mind just wouldn’t allow him into that space yet. “Jia…if I call mommy…would you want to talk to her?”

 

Jia thought for a moment. “Yeah, but only to tell her she missed Jiyun’s goodbye party. Do you think she knows she missed it?”

 

Yoongi clenched. Her innocence was heartbreaking. He couldn’t speak for a long moment. Jia took the opportunity to keep talking.

 

“Remember how…how you asked me who I wanted to see at Jiyun’s party and I told you Kumamon. Or…or…Ryan. I think Jiyunnie would have liked them at her party. I don’t think she would have liked mommy.” 

 

Yoongi gave her a rueful smile. “Kumamon and Ryan are pretty busy. We’ll have to have a happier party and invite them later.” 

 

Jia pushed herself up from his chest and turned around to look at him. “You and Uncle Namjoon said mommy was really busy with work.”

 

Yoongi nodded and bit his lip. He could hardly look at her. His breathing was so tight and painful he felt like he might pass out. “She was. But if I call mommy now, I think she might find some time to come. Would you like to see her?”

 

Jia thought for a long moment, then hopped off his lap and walked across the room to where her dollhouse sat. She knelt down and picked up two Barbies. She walked back to Yoongi and handed him one. He took the doll, slightly confused, and watched Jia hold her own doll.

 

“This doll is me,” she held up the one in her hand. Then, suddenly she began smashing it relentlessly into the doll in Yoongi’s hand, her face crumpled into one of such rage and agitation Yoongi was genuinely shocked. 

 

“Yah…Jia-ah, stop,” Yoongi scolded her gently as he collected the dolls and set them on the futon at his side. He took her hands into his and smoothed out her hair from her face, which had flown wild in her sudden attack. “What was that for?” 

 

“That’s what I want to do to mommy,” she said confidently. 

 

Yoongi looked at the phone, next to the dolls and sighed. This was going to be much harder than he thought. 

 

Ultimately, Yoongi decided that even though an interaction with Sunhee couldn’t be avoided, it didn’t mean he had to drag Jia into it with him. Later that night, either from exhaustion or pure numbness, he finally managed to dial her number. The black evening air was frigid and punctured pain points into his exposed skin as he stood on the Kims’ rooftop terrace that overlooked the city. If he was experiencing fear or nerves, the cold did wonders for shocking it out of his perception. 

 

“Yoongi…” Sunhee’s voice oozed through the phone; sticky and wet, as if it had been waiting to envelope him for months.

 

“I don’t want to talk too long,” Yoongi informed her as soberly as he could. “I think we should meet in person.” He said the words quickly so they wouldn’t get trapped in his throat. 

 

“Is this about the funeral?” Sunhee asked.

 

The blunt force of her words crashed into his ear. He felt sick as the pain struggled to find a place to settle within him. He collapsed onto a deck chair and leaned forward on his knees. “Yes,” he breathed unevenly. He wanted to be angry; he wanted to chew her out for being so calloused and casual about the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a parent. Why didn’t she feel what he was feeling? It sickened him to no end but he didn’t have the energy to fight with her.

 

“Where should we meet?”

 

“Old Blue, it’s close to where I used to work.”

 

“I know it. When?”

 

Yoongi pulled the phone away from his face and checked the time. It was before 10:00pm. “Now?”

 

A loud sigh came through her end and her voice grew far away and muffled. Yoongi realized she was talking to someone else; a male. He balked at the realization that she might be with someone else but told himself it wasn’t worth getting upset over. Their divorce had been finalized for months. Still, he hated how she could move on and live a normal life as if the one they created together had never happened at all; as if she hadn’t completely shattered it on her way out.

 

He waited for her to come back to the phone. 

 

“Okay, I’ll see you there in 20 minutes,” she said casually; as if he were an afterthought. 

 

He hung up the phone and buried his head in his arms. He let out a muffled scream into the fabric of his coat. Not even the bitter cold of the night could blot out the pain he felt. 

 

 

He was shocked to see that she showed up. He’d thought about turning around and going home a million times himself on that short walk to Old Blue. Afterall, he’d done his due diligence and he’d told Sunhee about Jiyun. Her less than feeling reaction to the news should have been enough indication that he was wasting his time meeting up with her like this. Still, the thing that kept him moving forward; the source of all his courage, was Jiyun. She deserved more than just a brief phone call between her parents. Her life deserved a real conversation. She was not his child and his child alone. She belonged to so many people and it was selfish of him to even entertain the idea of keeping her last physical moments on earth all to himself. As much as he hated Sunhee for what she did to their family, he couldn’t let that stand in the way of what Jiyun would have wanted. 

 

As Yoongi drew closer, he felt his heart banging out of control against his chest. It was more than nerves or grief or utter exhaustion…it was her. He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t still madly, deeply in love with Sunhee. She was his first and only for everything. They’d been together since elementary school. His eyes couldn’t see any other woman the way he saw her. She filled him up and gave him shape and purpose. All these months of not seeing her had inured him to the pain of their break up. If he didn’t have see her face or look into her eyes or feel her presence, it was easy for him to come out of her spell; to feel the appropriate emotions of anger and sadness. Now, however, seeing her in the flesh, it felt as if his whole body were on fire. He missed her, desperately, and it confused him to the point of self-loathing. 

 

As he closed the gap between them, she gave him a smile that sent a white streak of pain through his chest. How could she smile like that? How could he want it so badly?

 

“Yoongi,” she breathed as he stopped a few feet in front of her. “Aren’t you going to come closer? Come give me a hug. I think we both need it.”

 

Yoongi didn’t move. He didn’t trust her or himself. She was acting and sounding far too casual for the circumstances of their meeting. Like a family pet had died rather than their daughter. He felt like he was going to crumble into a million pieces; like a heavy icicle dangling from a roof, ripe for shattering. 

 

She sighed, annoyed, and put her hands back in her pockets. “Don’t do this oversensitive thing with me. You know I hate when you get like this.”

 

Yoongi was incredulous. He made a face that screamed what he couldn’t: _What the ACTUAL FUCK?!_ How else was he supposed to be if not overly sensitive? The grief was wearing him. He didn’t have a choice in the matter. Could she really not understand that? 

 

After a long moment of deciding what to do next, he walked passed her and into the bar. If she followed him, great, if she didn’t, Yoongi was more than primed to drink himself into oblivion. He settled into a booth and slid off his jacket. Within seconds she was sitting opposite of him, running her manicured nails through her auburn hair. He saw Jiyun in her face and he had to bite back the knee-jerk reaction that rose within him. 

 

_What was he thinking?_

 

Just yesterday he’d laying on the bathroom floor, sick to his stomach, unable to get up off the cold tiles. Now he was in a bar with a woman he swore he’d never see again? He'd been all over the place in the days since the funeral. This couldn’t be normal or healthy.

 

_This is how people go insane._ He thought to himself. _This is how I’m going to lose my damn mind._

 

Neither of them said anything until after they each received their respective drink orders. Sunhee had a fluorescent colored fruit cocktail, Yoongi some cheap draft beer. He stared numbly at the too-green bottle as he ran the edge of his thumbnail over the paper label. He’d had so many things he wanted to say to her but none of them seemed to matter now that they were actually facing one and other.

 

“I think it’s cute how we’re still so comfortable with each other. We don’t even mind sitting in silence together,” Sunhee finally spoke, a playful smile curled into her lips. 

 

Yoongi broke his concentration with the bottle and chugged the whole thing in one go. He slammed the glass bottle onto the table and motioned for the server to bring him another. 

 

Sunhee eyed him with a fine layer of judgement and sipped at her drink. 

 

“Aren’t you going to ask about Jiyun? Or Jia?” He asked her thickly. 

 

She swallowed the liquid in her mouth and braced her hands on the table, more concerned with the slight case of brain freeze setting in than her own children. 

 

Yoongi was disgusted but he knew he was going to need more alcohol weather he stayed or not. He could see the server on his way with the second beer. 

 

“Yoongi…” she sighed as she settled back into the booth, arms folded across her chest. “Jiyun never had a chance. Every single doctor we took her to said so. Do you know how hard it was for me, as her mother, to see her every single day in that kind of pain?”

 

Yoongi clenched his fists so hard his fingernails cut into his skin. He couldn’t contain the nameless emotions that roiled inside of him. _This was such a bad idea. Fuck this was a bad idea._ Is this what it felt like to be in a murderous rage? He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. 

 

“If we had just taken the first doctor’s suggestion and let the disease progress without any intervention, she would have died quickly…peacefully. Honestly, Yoongi, so many people have been accusing me of being a monster for the way I’ve been acting but look at you. You dragged out her life for almost another year. You signed those papers that pumped our child full of chemicals that made her sick and miserable when you knew her chances of survival were low.”

 

Yoongi stared numbly at his second bottle of beer. It was already empty. When had he drained it? He couldn’t even feel it sloshing around inside of him. Was it the slight buzz or was she making sense? 

 

“I left because I couldn’t stand to fight with you anymore. You wanted to make her suffer, so I let you do it alone. Now you want me to answer to you? This part of my life is over. You ended it for all of us with your selfishness. I don’t feel sorry for you, Min Yoongi.”

 

Something about her slimy, sticky voice eroded any composure he had left inside of him. He knew she would do this. He knew she would find a way to twist this whole thing against him; get into his head; make him feel shame for trying to do the best thing by Jiyun. She was wrong, of course. Jiyun had shown signs of beating the cancer right around the time Sunhee left. She’d even been allowed to go home and live somewhat normally for a period of time. Even when she started getting sick again, Yoongi was told she still had a fighting chance. 80/20 they had assured him, possibly higher. The doctors just needed to give her very small doses of chemo. What parent wouldn’t jump at the chance to save their child’s life with those odds? 

 

He knew fighting with her was pointless so before he did something too out of control, he shoved himself away from the table.

 

Sunhee stood up first and reached across the table, pushing her hand into his chest so he couldn't stand. “No. You stay here. I’m sure you’ll want to fill up a bit more so you can live with yourself in the morning,” she leaned in close to his ear, her warm breath turning to ice against his boiling skin.

 

He closed his eyes as the weight of her closeness settled on him. This was not the Sunhee he used to know. This was someone completely different. But she smelled the same and felt the same. For a moment, he let the memories of the old her wash over him and cool the rage that threatened to burst from him. He hated her in that moment but, right next to that hate, was a love he knew he would never fall out of. In his new reality of pain and loss, he couldn’t fathom the idea of letting her go too. No matter what she said. No matter how sick it was. He missed her so much he could hardly stand it. 

 

She lingered by his lips for a moment as if daring him to make a move. He locked eyes with her for a long, tenuous moment, their noses nearly touching. Then, just to spite her, he gently grabbed the back of her neck and drew her into his lips. 

 

The kiss was soft and yielding at first, as if their was nothing at all unhealthy about the act. Quickly, however, it turned hard, hot, rushed, painful. He leaned into her with all the aggression and anger and sadness he’d been holding in, much of it caused by her. He walked her backward into a secluded hallway toward the restrooms and let one of his hands slide under her shirt, pressing it against the warm skin of her abdomen, while he braced himself against the wall with the other. 

 

_Fuck_ it had been a long time since he felt this level of intimacy. Even if it was happening against a dirty wall in a very public place, he was hungry for her touch in a way he couldn’t even begin to understand. 

She let him explore her body for a moment before growling into his ear, “let’s do this somewhere more private.”

 

He pulled himself away, dumb with surging hormones and wet lips. Disconnecting from her was all it took for him to come to his senses. (though other parts of his body weren’t so quick to catch up). He leaned off her and let his head drop down to his chest. “This is fucking sick,” he muttered mostly to himself. 

 

Sunhee looked away and straightened up her own clothes and hair. She leaned up and gave him a gentle kiss on his temple. The look they shared in that next moment was one that felt like old times. Suddenly, for that one fleeting moment, he wasn’t there in that cold, dingy bar, loaded down by time and grief. He was 15 years old and cradling her in his arms on a sunny hill, kissing her neck, soaking up her warmth.

 

But only for a moment.

 

The reality was, grief had rearranged her just as much as it had him. He hadn’t figured out how he planned to survive this nightmare but as for Sunhee, her only way to keep living was to literally become a different person. He knew that now, with full certainty and it shattered him into fragments so small he felt like he was disappearing altogether. 

 

He blinked and the moment was over. He was back to his cold realty.

 

Sunhee ducked under his arm and walked out of the bar without looking back.


	12. Terrorist

Yoongi would be hard pressed to accurately recall how many drinks he’d knocked back after Sunhee left and he told himself it didn’t matter. He deserved to feel numb. He was tired of feeling miserable, in pain, sick, and confused. He stayed until last call; until he couldn’t feel his body anymore. He thought it would feel good to be this weightless, but he realized, disheartened, that underneath all of his pain and anguish was sharp, unbridled anger. It was just waiting to be unleashed on something or someone. 

 

He stumbled out into the early morning, sky still black but teasing the landscape with a weepy purple hue on the horizon. His breath was white in front of his face and zigzagged across his vision as he stumbled around on the icy pavement. He felt his body crash into something. 

 

“Yah! What the hell, watch where you’re going!” Someone shouted into the side of his face. Suddenly, he was on the ground, on his back. A smattering of laughter filled up his ears and he saw a few blurry figures circling in on him.

 

With a swiftness that surprised even himself, he got back to his feet, reeled his arm backward and plummeted his fist toward one of the shadowy faces. His punch never landed, but within seconds he felt the warm sting of busted skin fill his mouth. He fell backward again but refused to stay down. He snapped back up to his feet and lunged at the group of men, craving all out destruction. He wound his arm back again and this time it connected with a lip.

 

He stumbled backward, dimly registering the warm liquid that seeped from his mouth and onto his frozen fingers. He wiped at it with the back of his hand before lunging forward and tacking one of the men to the ground. He pinned the stranger to the pavement with his knees and unleashed left and right hooks into the spongy flesh of his face. He landed a half dozen punches before he felt himself being lifted into the air and slammed back down. For a brief moment, he felt better. The satisfaction of pummeling something as out of control fury pumped through his veins, granted him a clean breath. For that split second, it felt like the weight had been dissolved from his shoulders. It didn’t last. The men crowded around him and sailed their feet into his guts and back until he couldn’t breathe or fight them off. Sadistically, he almost enjoyed it and did nothing to protect himself.

 

_Kill me, please._ He begged silently. 

 

No such mercy would be granted. Within a minute or two the beating stopped. One of the men spit on the ground right by his head and they all stalked off into the early morning, leaving Yoongi cold and beaten on the ground. 

 

His vision swam around him in heavy, spinning circles. He pushed himself up into a sitting position.

 

“AISH!!!” He shouted angrily into the frosty air as he kicked his feet out. “What kind of fight was that?! I’m not even bleeding!!” He said this as globules of spit and blood fell from his busted lip. With considerable effort he got to his feet and blindly started off in the direction the men had disappeared in, drunkenly believing he could reengage them in another “battle”. Gravity had other plans, however, and a few slippery steps into his journey, he fell back down on his knees. 

 

Breathless, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair and stood up again. The world around him was spinning out of control. All the lights on the street had gone out except for one. A dim orange glow across the street just barely illuminated the words “Sidorim Café”. A gentle, sleepy smile spread across his face and made his lip twinge with pain. His old place of work, where he’d been head chef for nearly two years, gleamed at him from the darkness. He felt warm as his beleaguered mind slowly bubbled up with memories of his past life; the life he could hardly believe was ever his own. 

 

Halmeoni Kim, the owner of the café, had been so kind to him. Though he was barely twenty-two, fresh out of the military, and devoid of relevant experience when he turned up on her doorstep, she’d taken him in and trained him herself. Yoongi knew her motivation to help him was mostly spurred on by the love she had for Jiyun and Jia. Halmi Kim, they called her, was forever doting on his children, showering them with candy and baked desserts and cheek pinches. Just like his OTHER Kim family, Halmi Kim was a vital part in his survival as a young father. Without her guidance or warmth, he’d have never been able to uncover his talent for cooking or provided the paychecks that helped his young family survive. When he had to resign to take care of Jiyun on his own, they both cried. 

 

A few months back, he’d heard that Halmi Kim was ill and had to close the café. He’d passed by a few times, late at night, after his visits with Jiyun and thought about leaving her flowers or a letter of thanks. Surely someone in her family would see it and bring it to her. But, like so many other things, he never got the chance. He wondered if she was still alive. 

 

_Of course she’s alive. His drunken mind told him. Not_ everyone _can be dead_.

 

He stumbled toward the café, as if his curiosity had him on a leash. He could envision Halmi Kim, even in her weakened state, bustling around in the kitchen, preparing a delicious meal. If he knocked on the door, maybe she would let him in and share it with him. Maybe she would hold his hand and tell him everything was okay. Unlike Namjoon and his family, who were also entrenched in their own grief, maybe Halmi Kim could actually support him without pity and speak to him about Jiyun’s loss as if he were a man, and not some wounded and defenseless creature. She could feed him _pa jun_ and make him laugh with one of her silly stories.

 

Luckily, he made it across the road without incident and found himself right up against the front door. Though the light was on outside, it looked completely dark on the other side of the door. Still, he convinced herself Halmi Kim was inside. He wanted to see her. He lifted his arms, heavy with soju and a sloshing mess of other long forgotten liquids, and began pounding on the door. 

 

 

Key had been awake all night, aimlessly sifting through the dusty café. As he hadn’t even been informed of his grandmother’s death, he had no idea when the café closed. Judging by the looks of the place, covered in a fine layer of dust, and strewn with boxes and boxes of unmanageable junk, it had been a while. He wondered who had come to box up (or perhaps deposit) so many of his grandmother’s belongings. He thought it might be his father who, undoubtedly, was bitter about the fact that Key had been granted ownership of the café and not himself. Perhaps, before he lost the key to the café forever, he had come and purposefully made a mess of things to make the process of sorting everything harder for his son. Key had inherited his petty side from someone. 

In any case, whoever threw those boxes of junk all around the café succeeded in overwhelming him. Not that it was a terribly hard thing to do. At first, he gave organization his best shot because, ultimately, this was for his beloved grandmother. And as he sorted through the old photo albums and dusty antiques that used to decorate her home, he felt a strange sense of long forgotten happiness settle over him. His life hadn’t always been so fraught with heartache and tragedy. He’d lived a happy life, once, with his grandparents. 

As the night drew on, however, he began to feel tired and agitated. He took too many pills and pushed passed the lethargy that begged him to close his eyes. He pushed himself to keep sorting through the junk until he came across a piece of paper that had fallen to the bottom of the box. It was dated recently and clearly written on a fresh piece of paper. Her immediately recognized the scrawl as his father’s.

_Kibum,_

_It angers me that this letter is the only way I will speak to you ever again. I would really like to see you face to face so you could be reminded of what a real man looks like. You’ve disappointed us so much, however, that I don’t think I will ever be able to look you in the eye or call you my son again. It was your grandmother’s last wish that this café be left in your care. I do not understand her choice and I never will. It is because I love and respect her, that I have granted her wish. The only reason you have such a precious thing in your possession is because of my loyalty to her. You did nothing to earn this, and we, as a family, will never acknowledge you as the true owner. Do not mistake this incredible gift as a sign of forgiveness. You will never have that from us._

He didn’t sign it. 

 

He felt his breath come through his chest and out of his flared nostrils in hot, sharp bursts. Anger and frustration coursed through him in searing waves that burned at his core.

 

What was the point of working so hard for so many years to have it all thrown away in an instant? To have his family turn their backs on him? Was this reality? Was this how the world operated? Had he just been too vane to notice?

 

He threw his hands over the clutter of junk strewn across the bar top and sank to the floor. He choked on his own sobs and the golden flecks of dust that kicked up around him in the musky room. He was resolute, killing himself was the only option he had left. He was never going to find the time or the care to sort through all of these useless things his grandmother had saved. It was all useless garbage inside of an even more useless building. He had been made to feel foolish so often in the last three months, he couldn’t stand the thought of running headlong into another situation that would render him a failure.

 

So what if her last wish had been for him to take over the café? So what if she had always held dreams of keeping this knotted mass of rotting wood and rusted steel in the family? She was dead and gone now and, with any luck, he’d be off to meet her soon. If there really was an afterlife, he both feared and longed for the chance to explain himself to her when they met again.

 

A sob shuttered through his exhausted body and he held his wet cheeks in the palms of his hands pressing at the skin on his face, trying to remember a time when anything had felt real. Maybe if he could connect to a memory like that, he could convince himself to keep trying; to stick around. But this wasn’t about memories. This wasn’t about reality vs ideation. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that his desire to end his life was an impulse; something he needed to act upon and suppressing that urge was draining what little energy he had left.

 

He balled his fists up at his temples and let out quaking groan.

 

_I know how am I going to do it._ The pills were in his pocket. The thought was solid and felt more palpable than his own skin beneath his fingertips. As his mind rushed around on the heels of terror, adrenaline, and euphoria an unexpected sound came from outside the door.

 

He inhaled sharply and glared at the door in surprise. He waited, forcing himself to slow his breath so he could listen for it again.

 

Within fractions of a second, the sound came again. Fists, raining against the door. Not one punch or two punches to the flimsy wooden barrier. Multiple, frenetic, feverish like someone was taking a jack hammer to it at full speed.  
He went rigid.

 

He was supposed to be alone but whoever was on the other side of the door was not going to allow it.

 

“Halmi Kim-ah! Halmi Kim-ah! It’s me! It’s Min Yoongi! Can you let me in, I think I’m frozen to death.”

Key wiped the tears off of his cheek and squinted his eyes through the darkness. From where he sat, he could see a small square of silver light flooding through the front door. Someone’s head weaved in and out of the light as they banged their fists on the door.

Did he hear it right? _Min Yoongi?_ It couldn’t be. With all the sick jokes he’d endured over the last three months, this one had to be the lowest and most personal. Min Yoongi was a name he’d kept close in his heart throughout the literal hell of the interrogation. Not only had that man saved him when he was physically hurt, he’d also rescued him when he was being psychologically terrorized. He wasn’t 100% sure but he suspected Min Yoongi had followed through on his promise of taking care of those policemen. He hardly knew the man or what magical connections he must have to always be in the right place at the right time but he’d already saved him in countless ways. 

He shook his head.

With gut wrenching realization, he concluded that someone had found out about Min Yoongi and the help he’d provided Key. This was their way of getting back at him for wriggling out of that fake interrogation; by sending some terrorist to shout his name at him outside the one place he thought he was safe. He knew this nightmare wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ end so easily. 

He gripped the pill bottle in his shaking hands and worked furiously to pop off the lid. He couldn’t take another minute of this torture. 

“Halmi Kim, please…I'm hungry. Let's eat _pa jun_ together!” The voice called out. 

Key immediately stopped what he was doing.

_Halmi Kim?_ Nobody outside the family used that nickname for his grandmother. Would a random terrorist trying to play a trick on him really know such a detail? He couldn’t be sure of anything. Maybe whoever was after him really was that good. And what was this about _pa jun_? 

“Aish, please. Halmi Kim, it’s so cold. I think I’m going crazy!” The knocking slowed down and, for a moment that last a bit too long, it was suddenly silent. 

Would a terrorist give up that easy? 

Years later, when he looked back on this very moment of his life, he’d never be able to say what made him stand up off that dirty floor. What propelled him toward that small square of light coming through the window, or what prompted him to open the door but it would all change his life more than he could have possibly imagined. 

 

Tentatively, he got to his feet, though his right leg still gave him some trouble, he could put light pressure on it and walk small distances without his crutches. Slowly, he made his way across the dark, dusty room. He hung in the door way, peering out through the window. He craned his neck to either side, looking around for the owner of the voice. For a moment, he didn’t see anyone. 

 

_Great, now I’m hallucinating._

 

But very suddenly, a face popped up in the window and stared unblinkingly into his surprised expression. Utter shock drove Key’s hand back from the unlocked door and in his confusion and panic of the moment, pulled it wide open. Seeing what he had done, he grabbed a frying pan off the counter and held it up over his head, ready to attack.

 

It wouldn’t be needed. The man in front of him swayed unevenly on his feet. His beautiful, sharp eyes rolled back slightly in his head. He woozily tripped forward, over the threshold, and passed out in Key’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoongi and Kibum are finally in each other's arms ;)


	13. Bathroom Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a long weekend from work so I've had extra time to work on this story. This chapter isn't entirely vital to the story line, it's just a bit of insight into how Yoongi and the Kims dealt with Jiyun's passing. If that's not interesting, no need to read :) It's also quite long and probably be a bit redundant but I felt like it still had a place. Enjoy! (or don't lol)

**Namjoon**

The funeral had passed by in a blur and, initially, it seemed Yoongi was handling everything shockingly well. He’d stood upright under his own power and greeted the mourners warmly. He listened with composure as friends and family shared their favorite memories of Jiyun and even offered genuine smiles at all the appropriate times. With his hair dyed to a more “fatherly” black color, Namjoon almost couldn’t recognize the Yoongi effortlessly making his way through the funeral hall in those 72 hours. Even when it was all over, Yoongi simply retreated to his room and slept soundly for nearly 2 days. Having been sleep deprived during the funeral period, no one was surprised by how exhausted Yoongi was but that didn’t stop them from checking in on him obsessively.

 

They’d all been on edge those last few days, each of them taking shifts in their vigilant watch over both Yoongi and Jia. Jia was okay for the most part, if not a bit frustrated that Jiyun hadn’t comeback yet. As she played with her dolls she always made a separate pile for her older sister “just in case”. Throughout the last two days, she’d also asked about Yoongi. She wondered if they were going to have a “goodbye” party for him as well since, like Jiyun, he had also been spending a lot of time unable to get out of bed. 

 

“Jia, don’t worry. Your dad is just sleepy. We don’t need to have a goodbye party for him,” Namjoon explained to her carefully. “But when he does wake up, he’s going to need a lot of hugs and kisses. He sat beside her on the floor in the living room, wrestling hopelessly with a Barbie dress that wouldn’t fit the doll in his hands.

 

“Give that to me,” Kyungmin, who sat on the couch, rolled her eyes as she swiped the doll from Namjoon. She adjusted the dress properly and gave him a look of superiority.

 

Namjoon pulled a face and busied himself with another outfit for a new doll, careful not to draw from the pile of toys reserved for Jiyun. Jia used to be a total bookworm, exceedingly articulate for her age, and very well poised for a six-year-old. In the last few weeks however, Namjoon noticed, disheartened, that Jia was behaving differently. She cast her books aside, developed something of a stutter, and pouted when she spoke. Increasingly, she appeared to be reverting back to her toddler behaviors; sucking her thumb and asking for a night light. He didn’t know when or how to bring it up to Yoongi. 

 

“Jia, Namjoonie is right. If your dad is looking a little different these days, don’t be afraid, okay? He’s still your appa, and no matter what happens, he’s not going anywhere.” Kyungmin offered the little girl a bright smile.

 

Mama Kim entered the living room, holding an empty glass. A tired smile on her face. They all looked up at her expectantly. 

 

“He only woke up long enough for me to force this down his throat,” she tilted the glass up for them to see the evidence. “I didn’t think it was possible for him to get any more stubborn. I was wrong.”

 

“Did he talk to you? Is he okay?” Namjoon asked, unable to hide his anxiety.

 

“He’s breathing,” Mama Kim assured them. “I certainly don’t expect more from him beyond that. Well, perhaps a bit more hydration, but we’ll get him there.”

 

Namjoon settled back onto the floor, disheartened. Of all the Kim family members, he was by far the closest to Yoongi and yet, he felt that he was the least able to help him. There were even times during the funeral when Yoongi comforted him. Now that they were all home together (Mama Kim refused to let Yoongi stay at his apartment alone), Namjoon had only been able to bring himself to look in on Yoongi a handful of times. Though he was asleep, Namjoon could see the anguish on Yoongi’s face. Even at rest, the pained expression never quiet unknitted itself from his countenance. Curled up under all those blankets, ravaged by stress and exhaustion, it hurt Namjoon to look at him so he made his check-ins brief. He relied on his mother and sister and father to give him updates, but there weren’t many. He knew he would, eventually, have to find it within himself to be there for Yoongi when he needed him, just as he promised. 

 

He got his chance, rather unexpectedly, the next morning. When Yoongi woke up on that third day, he was sick to his stomach. He’d practically crawled to the toilet down the hall. Namjoon, on his way to get ready for the morning, found him hunched over the toilet bowl, coughing his guts up and shivering uncontrollably.  
Eyes wide in his head, Namjoon had practically busted a vocal cord calling for help.

 

Mama Kim came shuffling down the hall in flourish of panic, truly concerned that something was wrong. When she saw what was happening she bent down next to Yoongi and pushed the hair out of his eyes to feel for his temperature.

 

“Namjoon-ah, please,” his doctor mother clicked her tongue at him when she saw he was still in full on panic mode. “Close your mouth before a fly lands in there and go get him some water.” Mama Kim knocked her chin toward the door as she gently rubbed Yoongi’s back to calm him down.

 

When Namjoon came back with the glass of water, his hands were shaking and he nearly spilled it all over the bathroom. 

 

Mama Kim, though extremely worried herself, gave her son an exasperated look. “Yoongi-ah, I know you’re in pain right now, but I promise this is nothing to worry about. Please drink this.”

 

As Yoongi leaned up off the toilet, and took small, obedient sips of the water Mama Kim calmly went on to explain that getting physically ill after a stressful event was actually very common. 

 

“You were holding so much in, Yoongi-ah,” she said soothingly as she stoked his heaving back and pushed the hair off his sweaty brow. “It’s okay to let it all come out now. I’ll make you some tea and get you a blanket. Namjoon will stay here with you, okay?”

 

Yoongi nodded and sniffled. Resting his chin on his arms, he stared miserably into the toilet bowl, ready to be sick again at any moment. 

 

Namjoon managed to calm down enough to take a seat beside him but neither of them spoke. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. What was he supposed to do?

 

Yoongi decided that he wouldn’t be sick again and leaned off the toilet, still shivering. Wordlessly, he turned toward Namjoon and curled into his side. Yoongi’s head nuzzled into his collarbone, his frail, exhausted body pressed into his rib cage, Namjoon shut his eyes and let out a sigh. 

 

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted as he wrapped his arms around his best friend.

 

“You do know how to scream, though,” Yoongi teased him quietly. “What was that noise you made before?” Yoongi imitated the scream for help Namjoon made. 

 

“I was surprised!” He defended himself with a smile. He was grateful for the levity Yoongi created in their interaction. This didn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as he had anticipated. 

 

“You’ve seen me puke a million times,” Yoongi scoffed. 

 

“Yeah but this is…different…”

 

A beat of silence that felt too long. “It is different…everything is…” Yoongi’s voice caught in his throat as he spoke. He forced the tsunami of tears back and took in a strangled sigh. 

 

Namjoon pulled him closer, again, hating himself so much for the pleasure he felt in Yoongi’s warmth. “Don’t,” he said partially to himself, but mostly to Yoongi. He shook his head. “What I mean is…don’t hold your sadness in. I can’t even see your face but I know exactly what expression you’re making. The one where you’re biting your lip and your eyebrows look like caterpillars.”

 

“How do you do that?” Yoongi cursed Namjoon quietly as he raked his teeth over his bottom lip. 

 

“Because I do. Please don’t make yourself sick anymore. If you need to puke or cry or scream just…do it…okay? I know you. I know how self-conscious you are about being weak in front of others but we’re your family. We’re going to catch you when you fall. It’s okay to let go.”

 

Yoongi closed his eyes and nodded into Namjoon’s chest. By the time Mama Kim came back with the tea and blankets, Yoongi was absolutely shaking with sobs in Namjoon’s arms. She gave her son a silent smile of encouragement and left the two of them alone on the bathroom floor. 

 

Yoongi sobbed into Namjoon’s shirt for what seemed like hours. The two of them held onto each other harder than ever, Namjoon letting out a few sobs of his own. He’d been so preoccupied with trying to keep everything together for Yoongi and Jia that he hadn’t really stopped to process how much he missed Jiyun. He knew the pain of what he was feeling was only a fraction of what Yoongi felt and that terrified him.

 

Eventually Yoongi’s energy drained and all he could do was lean his full weight into Namjoon’s body. His breaths slowly smoothed out as exhaustion dragged him in and out of consciousness.

 

“I can’t do this, Namjoon,” he groaned into his shirt. “This is going to kill me…”

 

“Deep breaths,” Namjoon whispered to him as he gently massaged Yoongi’s temples. “You’ve got this, Yoon. We’re going to get through this, I promise.” He blinked a few tears out of his lashes but tried to keep his breathing measured so Yoongi wouldn’t be able to tell he was crying too.

 

“I’m pathetic,” he murmured. “I’m just laying around feeling sorry for myself but there’s still so much to worry about. Jia…I haven’t seen Jia in days…and Sunhee…I have to call her…”

 

“Hey, shhh, don’t worry about that right now. You need this. It’s like we’re always telling you, you’re no good to anyone else if you aren’t good to yourself first. That’s not going to change.” Namjoon spotted the blankets his mother left earlier and pulled one up around Yoongi. He gently stroked his back. “Just let yourself relax. Do you want some tea? It’s probably cold but mom will force you to drink something later anyway.”

 

Yoongi shook his head no. He couldn’t imagine keeping anything in his stomach with the way he felt now. All the crying had made him nauseous again. He let out a small groan and nuzzled into Namjoon, trying to make himself as small as possible. He knew it was silly but he believed, in that moment, that he could simply wrap his arms around Yoongi and protect him from the long weeks, months…and years…ahead. 

 

He whispered comforting things into Yoongi’s hair, rubbing soft circles into his back until he felt him go limp in his arms and he heard his deep, slumbered breaths. With only a little bit of effort, he managed to walk Yoongi back to his bed and tuck him in. He watched over him for a few minutes, noting that same, pained expression etched into his features, even in sleep.

 

“He’s finally sleeping,” Namjoon sighed as he settled into the living room couch. He rubbed his forehead with his right hand as exhaustion settled over him and he shut his own eyes to the world.

 

He felt his mother put a comforting hand on his knee. “You did well, Namjoon-ah.”

 

Namjoon managed a tight smile and put his hand over hers in gratitude. 

 

“I always knew losing Jiyun was going to be bad…” Namjoon sighed. He opened his red, bleary eyes to look at his mother. “I just never imagined it would be like this. The person upstairs is not Yoongi. He’s just a pulse…”

 

His mother bit back a sob, but the contours of her face threatened to break apart at any moment. “I don’t even want to imagine what must be going through his head right now. If I ever lost you or Kyungmin…” she trialed off, unable to continue. “And that low-life Sunhee didn’t even bother to show up…” she shook her head and wiped at the tears she inevitably could not hold back. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. Namjoon, we really need to watch him.”

 

“I know. I know…” Namjoon ran both hands over his face and leaned forward on his knees. He was too tired to cry; too drained to figure out how to express everything he was feeling. 

 

“Why don’t you get some rest yourself?” His mother suggested. 

 

 

The next morning, Namjoon woke to the sounds of laughter bouncing around his head. He felt little feet kicking into his side, climbing up onto his chest, and then, warm breath on his face. 

 

“Uncle Namjoon!” Jia called out to him in a singsong voice.

 

He opened his eyes. The little girl’s forehead was pressed into his so far that her eyes had merged into one giant blinking eye staring playfully at him.

 

“What the…?” Namjoon couldn’t hold back his laughter. He sat up and grabbed Jia by the sides. He gently wrestled her onto her back and tickled her belly until she was laughing so hard her face turned red. “Who said you could wake me up? Did your dad put you up to this?” Namjoon demanded playfully as he looked up at Yoongi who was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked exhausted but the smile on his face was genuine. 

 

“It was him! Tickle him!” Jia shouted through her laughter.

 

“No, he’s too grouchy. I might get bit.”

 

Yoongi bared his teeth at the pair of them in mock aggression. 

 

“He doesn’t bite, watch,” Jia stood up and pushed the hair out of her face. She toed her way across the bed and leapt onto Yoongi’s back. She made silly faces at him and poked his cheeks. 

 

Yoongi endured the attack, unable to stop himself from smiling.

 

“See? You try it.”

 

Namjoon laughed and readied himself for making funny faces but Yoogi quickly pulled a grumpy face at him.

 

“Oh no, looks like you’re the only one who makes him smile,” Namjoon feigned a hurt expression but in the end, all three of them broke into easy grins.  
“Jia, appa needs to talk to uncle Namjoon for a minute. Go jump on Mama Kim and ask her to make breakfast.” 

 

Jia nodded and skipped out of the room. They looked after her out the door for a moment before Yoongi deflated and fell backward onto Namjoon’s bed. He put his hands over his face and groaned. “How am I supposed to do this alone?” he mumbled. 

 

Namjoon tussled Yoongi’s hair. “Yah! What did I tell you yesterday? You’re not alone.”

 

Yoongi pulled his hands away from his face. “You know what I mean, Joon. I can’t live here with you guys forever. I’m not some orphan kid anymore. Eventually Jia and I are going to have to move back to my place. Then what? Sunhee needs…”

 

“Enough about her, man,” Namjoon threw a pillow lightly at Yoongi’s head. “What’s it going to take for you to let her go? She abandoned you and your kids. She didn’t come visit Jiyun one time while she was in the hospital. Now she had the gall to not show up at the funeral, even though my parents begged her. She’s toxic, Yoongi. No matter how hard you think raising Jia alone is going to be, getting over the pain of what Sunhee did will be a million times harder. How could you ever live with her under the same roof again?”

 

“Ugh…I know...it’s sick…I just…it’s not about me. It’s about Jia,” Yoongi was crying now, and he angrily wiped the tears off his cheeks. “I can’t teach her all of the ‘girl’ stuff. I can’t talk to her about…” he trailed off, too stressed out to think about it all. 

 

“Kyungmin and mom will do that,” Namjoon assured him.

 

“It’s not just that,” Yoongi sniffled. 

 

Namjoon reached over to his night stand and handed him a box of tissues.

 

Yoongi sat up and hunched over his knees, pressing the tissue into his swollen face. “It’s about Jiyun, too. We’re her parents. Can I just let all of Sunhee’s actions go without confronting her about them? Is that fair to Jiyun? I should have had this conversation with Sunhee months ago and I didn’t. I failed Jiyun by not bringing us back together as a family before she…” He bit his lip and closed his eyes. 

 

Namjoon inched toward the edge of the bed and rubbed Yoongi’s shoulders. “I wish you’d stop stressing yourself out like this, Yoongi. I’m worried about you.”

 

Yoongi sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “Jiyun never talked about it. She never said a single thing about her mother leaving. It just feels wrong. I need to fix this if I can…”

 

Namjoon knew he couldn’t stop him so he didn’t try. They sat together for a long moment until Yoongi composed himself. 

 

“I wonder what mom is cooking. We should eat,” Namjoon whispered as he stood up and helped Yoongi to his feet. Namjoon walked toward the door but Yoongi hung back. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing…” Yoongi said, as if lost in a deep trance. It was clear that he was lying but Namjoon didn’t push it. “Sorry I was just…never mind…let’s go eat.”


	14. Pa Jun

Yoongi felt something stabbing into his eyes. He sat up, disoriented, and looked around. He had barely just enough time to comprehend that he was not in a familiar place before a typhoon of nausea hit him on every nerve and dragged him back down. He let out a low groan and pressed the heals of his hands into his throbbing head. The thing stabbing into his eyes was the pain from his own body; the most miserable hangover he had ever endured. 

 

“Holy fuck…” he grimaced into the blanket wrapped around his face. It smelled dusty and mildly like a perfume he could just barely recognize. The scent pushed him over the edge. He didn’t know where he was but he knew he had to get out. Somehow, just in time, he stumbled out the front door and unloaded his guts into a patch of bushes. 

 

Key watched the scene unfold from behind the counter where he was wiping off a few dishes. It was nearly two in the afternoon. The man he’d pulled in from the cold night had slept for almost 12 hours and, by now, Key was positive of his identity. Though his hair was darker and he looked more exhausted than Key remembered, this was definitely the Min Yoongi. 

 

One of Key’s talents (and torments) was his ability to remember faces. Having been in the public eye for so many years and meeting so many people, he homed in on this talent to save himself from embarrassment. He sometimes only met a certain record exec or producer two times but if he didn’t quickly remember their face the first time, that second encounter could be hell, potentially the end of his career. He’d learned that every encounter, no matter how brief, was a chance to make a meaningful connection. Even after SHINee’s activities wound down he still managed to appear in movies, variety shows, and fashion magazines. He never imagined a day where he would be desperate to forget so many faces that had become his reality now that he fully remembered (and recounted) everything that had happened to him. In a strange and selfish way, he hoped that he could always remember Min Yoongi, the man who kept saving him. He hoped his face could override it all; like a new beginning.

 

Perhaps not that face, Key thought to himself as he watched Yoongi stumble back into the café looking less than glamourous. His dark brown hair stuck up at odd angles, and his skin was so pale Key reckoned the snow outside on the ground had more of a tan. 

 

As Yoongi braced himself on the door frame, trying to catch his breath, he chanced a look up to see who else was in the room with him. When his eyes connected with Key’s, they grew twice their size. Could this really be who he thought it was? Did Key recognize him? He had so many questions but the only one that came out was: 

 

“Am I still drunk?” He winced and touched his swollen lip. It hurt to talk. 

 

“Probably,” Key nodded, arms folded across his chest. “But I think you got a fair amount of your system just now.” He knocked his chin toward the bushes.

 

“Shit…” Yoongi bent his head into his chest. “I’m sorry…I…”

 

Key shook his head and flashed him a smile. “It’s fine.”

 

“I’ll just get going now…” Yoongi took a few heavy steps back into the café to collect his phone and jacket off the floor where he had been laying. When he bent down he saw a first aid kit, a melted bag of ice, and the make shift bed he’d been laying on. He turned around to face Key. “I really troubled you last night. Really…I’m so sorry…it’s been a crazy few days.”

 

Key came out from behind the counter, limping on his bad leg as he closed the space between himself and Yoongi. “I think you might know that I’m actually the one whose been troubling you.” Key helped Yoongi to his feet and into a stool on the opposite side of the counter. 

 

Yoongi let out a sigh of relief. “So you do recognize me.”

 

“I never forget a face,” Key informed him as he went back behind the counter and began to boil some water for tea. “I especially don’t forget a face that helps me out.”

 

Yoongi managed an ‘it was nothing’ shake of his head before resting it on his arms. The room was absolutely spinning and the longer he was conscious the more parts of his body lit up with pain. “It wasn’t fair how they were treating you. I can’t stand bullshit and I saw you stepping in a lot of it…well hobbling…in it, actually.” 

 

Key let out a tiny burst of laughter as he poured some steaming water onto a teabag inside of a small mug. “I sat on your lap, you puked in my bushes, I think we’re even now.” He said this as if it were fact and slid the steaming cup of tea over to Yoongi’s end of the bar top. 

 

“Fair enough,” Yoongi agreed. He would have smiled but he couldn’t manage his swollen lip. 

 

“So, tell me, what brings you all the way over to this end of town?” Key leaned back and resumed his position of arms crossed against his chest. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who would have much business over here.” Key had long since noted Yoongi’s designer clothes, and late model phone, all of which had been gifts from the Kims who couldn’t resist spoiling him. 

 

“Oh,” Yoongi looked down at himself and saw that blood and dirt were smeared into his white Balenciaga shirt. He sighed and shook his head. “This was a gift. I could never afford this. I was born on these side of the tracks.” 

 

“Well if that’s true then you must know the lady who owned this place?”

 

Yoongi nodded slowly. “Yeah, Halmi Kim. She’s a good friend of mine.”

 

There it was again. The pet name no one outside the family knew about. How was it that Min Yoongi felt so comfortable using it?

 

“The woman who owned this place, Halmi Kim, is my grandmother,” Key announced.

 

Yoongi’s face lit up with realization. He suddenly felt incredibly stupid. He thought of Halmi Kim as a close friend but how close could they have been for him not to know she had such a famous grandson?

 

“You’re lucky to have a grandmother like her,” Yoongi said ruefully.

 

Key unfolded his arms and walked over to the sink to busy himself. It was clear that Yoongi had no idea Halmi Kim was dead and he didn’t want to be the one to break it to him but he didn’t think he had a choice.

 

“So, you’re good friends with my grandmother?” Key asked over his shoulder as he scrubbed some dishes in the sink, trying to gauge if Yoongi was liable to snap if he broke the news. 

 

“I used to work here,” Yoongi explained. “Halmi Kim taught me everything I know about cooking,” Yoongi paused and Key looked over at him. “I heard she was sick. Are you here to take care of her, by any chance?”

 

Key turned off the tap and sighed. There was no point in lying to the man just because he was uncomfortable talking about it. “Halmi Kim is…she passed away…a while ago,” he forced himself to say the words as he dried his hands on a soiled towel. “I’m here to take care of the café.” Key stopped talking as soon as he saw Yoongi’s face.

 

A seriously troubled expression crisscrossed his features. He looked as if he’d just remembered he’d swallowed poison. 

 

Key began to panic. He cursed himself for saying anything. “I…uh…I’m sorry. That was a really sudden way to break the news…shit…I’m really not good at stuff like this…” 

 

Yoongi blinked warm tears out of his eyes and angrily wiped the back of his sleeve over his cheeks. “I’m not usually this fragile,” he assured both to himself and Key. “You have nothing to be sorry for it’s just…I wasn’t expecting this right now.”

 

Key suspected Yoongi had been going through a hard time, they had met in a hospital after all. He should have been more considerate. Maybe, in all of his own struggles, he’d lost some of his own sense of empathy. 

 

“Pa Jun!” Key suddenly shouted.

 

Yoongi gave him a confused look as he scrubbed the new tears off his cheeks.

 

“Uhm,” Key cleared his throat, “I don’t know if you remember, but last night you were asking for pa jun. I’ve been in here all day trying to figure out how to make it. I heard it’s good for hangovers…so if you want to try...”

 

Yoongi lifted his head up to see that, indeed, the kitchen area looked like a tsunami of cooking ingredients had torn through it. Batter dripped off the edge of the counter. Bright green scallions hung off odd parts of the utensil drawer handles and sink tap. The slightly stringent smell of something that had probably caught on fire hung in the air. Looking at him now, Yoongi could see that Key himself was covered in a hodgepodge of food scraps. His pretty white cheek had a sticky batter stain running up the side. Yoongi smiled but immediately regretted it. 

 

Key tracked Yoongi’s eyes self consciously and brought the back of his hand to wipe his cheek. His ears turned pink when he realized his face was messy.  
As he looked at Key’s shy expression he couldn’t help but think of his daughters cooking him one of their concoctions in Mama Kim’s kitchen, making just as big of a mess. The memory brought tears back to his eyes. “I’ll give it a try,” Yoongi said warmly. 

 

Key nervously turned toward the stove and scooped out two slices of pa jun from a pan. He slid the plate to Yoongi and handed him some cutlery.  
Yoongi felt considerably less nauseous than he had a few moments earlier but the idea of filling his stomach with anything wasn’t one he relished, especially not now that he was having yet another breakdown. Still, he reasoned, any pa jun cooked in this kitchen by a Halmi Kim relative must be tasty. It might provide him some comfort. 

 

Despite all the tumult in his body, his chef side emerged. He first smelled the cakes. They seemed like they might be slightly burnt but it could have been from the previously scorched batch, otherwise, nothing was off. Next he slid the edge of his fork into one of the cakes. The consistency wasn’t perfect, a bit on the dry side, but still, nothing he couldn’t work with. Finally, the real test. He scooped a piece onto his fork and popped it into his mouth. 

 

Key watched the whole thing with utter fascination and anticipation. Yoongi was a real chef. Halmi Kim had clearly taught him well and he was a bit envious. Key had left Daegu when he was in middle school to pursue his singing career. As such, he had to leave behind everything Halmi Kim taught him about cooking. He’d been holding a wooden spoon in his hand since before he could talk and he practiced with her in that kitchen every day until he left for Seoul when he was 14 years old but, still, he had lived almost a whole other lifetime since he had set foot in her kitchen. It was like being in a foreign country.

 

Yoongi slowly chewed the mouthful of pa jun with puffed cheeks and a strained expression on his face. Key saw, to his confusion and panic, tears beginning to well up in Yoongi’s eyes as he chewed and chewed and chewed the mass in his mouth. Finally, after what felt like hours, Yoongi swallowed. Key could hardly hide his anxiety over Yoongi’s verdict and as he leaned forward in anticipation, he noted that the man was actually sweating. 

 

Yoongi ran his tongue through the pockets in his mouth and winced. Before saying anything, he gulped at the now lukewarm tea in front of him.

 

“Well?” Key urged him.

 

Yoongi coughed. Big mistake. The pain in his head shot off in all directions. He was in utter misery and the bland food that clung to his mouth did absolutely nothing to help him. “How can you be Halmi Kim’s blood relative and cook like this?” Yoongi finally wheezed. 

 

Key fell back, clearly wounded and disappointed. “I knew this was a waste of time,” he pulled off his incredibly dirty apron, balled it up and threw it across the kitchen. “I don’t know how she expected me to take care of this place. I can barely make something as simple as pa jun and she wants me to run this entire café? Was she crazy?!” He pressed the heals of his hands into his forehead and took in a deep sigh.

 

“Hey, look, I didn’t mean it to come across like that. I’m not good at breaking bad news either…” Yoongi tried to lighten the mood. 

 

Key didn’t move. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. He really had no idea what he was supposed to do. He felt stupid for thinking he could take on something this important. 

 

Despite feeling like death warmed over, Yoongi got up from the stool and rounded the other side of the counter. He bent over, picked up the discarded apron, and handed it back to Key. “Don’t give up, okay?”

 

Key took his hands down from his face and looked into Yoongi’s eyes. He didn’t know how much he had been needing to hear those words until Yoongi spoke them into existence. To him, Yoongi was the most gorgeous being in the universe; consistent in his beauty both inside and out. He didn’t think people like him existed and he could hardly believe the universe was being so kind as to bring him right into his family’s kitchen. Yoongi looked away, feeling vulnerable under Key’s incredulous gaze, and shoved the apron into his hands. Key snapped out of his daze, feeling embarrassed.

 

Yoongi walked into the backroom and expertly collected a new apron from the hook on he back wall. He tied it around himself and set to work. He first cleared away the scorched pan and pulled a new one from a cabinet Key didn’t remember was there. Yoongi set the skillet on the burner and turned the heat on low. 

 

“Come help me,” Yoongi ordered. “You’re never going to learn how to make real pa jun by standing all the way over there.”

 

Key tied his apron back on and stood, a bit awkwardly, next to Yoongi who was now drizzling cooking oil into the pan.

 

For the next hour Yoongi patiently explained to Key the proper ingredients and preparation methods for making the perfect pa jun. Despite his best efforts, Key was inevitably clumsy as he hobbled around the kitchen, trying to both follow and remember Yoongi’s instructions. At one point, he dropped and egg on the floor and crunched over it with his casted foot. Yoongi nearly flipped the sizzling hot pan in the air as he instinctively threw his arms out to catch Key before he faceplanted on the floor. 

 

“Aish, when do you get this thing off? It doesn’t suit you at all,” Yoongi muttered as he put Key upright. 

 

“Two weeks,” he sighed, ears sailing past pink, straight into bright red. 

 

“Maybe you should hold off on reopening this place until then,” Yoongi suggested.

 

Key sighed and looked away. “I already told you…I can’t reopen this place. I have no idea what I’m doing. Besides, whose even going to come to the café? It won’t be a secret for long that I’m the one running it. My reputation is trashed. Korea hates me. Someone will set fire to this place within a week.” 

 

“And I told you not to give up,” Yoongi shot back. “You think I’m over here making delicious pa jun for my health? Literally anyone can cook, even you. Especially you. I refuse to believe Halmi Kim has relatives that weren’t born to be in the kitchen. It’s not possible.” Yoongi handed Key the spatula in his hand and set him in front of the frying pan. “Flip this over. I’m going to start on the sauce.” 

 

“But I…”

 

“Yah, no excuses,” Yoongi flapped his hand at him and set off to collect the ingredients for the dipping sauce. As he walked by the counter, he saw his phone going off. Namjoon’s name flashed on the screen.

 

“Shit!” he muttered as he reached for the phone. It slowly hit him that he had been away from the Kim’s for hours, including overnight, without so much as sending them a text to let them know he was still alive. He dreaded the tongue lashing he was about to get.

 

“Namjoon…” he began but the voice on the other end cut him off.

 

“Yah!! What the hell are you doing? Where the hell are you? Do you know how worried we’ve all been? Mom is practically running up and down the street asking the neighbors if they’ve seen you. Dad called the police. Jia is crying her eyes out. I’ve been calling you for the last six hours!” Namjoon was out of breath by the time he stopped yelling. 

 

“I’m fine,” Yoongi mumbled, moving away from Key so he couldn’t hear Namjoon shouting at him. “I just…I needed to do something last night and things got…a little out of hand.”

 

“A little out of---” Namjoon stopped and took in a deep breath. “You saw her, didn’t you?” 

 

“Yes. I saw Sunhee. I told you that was the plan.”

 

“Did you and her…?”

 

“What? No…God no…at least I don’t think we did…” Yoongi trailed off. He did remember some kissing and a very definite stiffening in his pants but nothing else.  
“Then where the hell have you been all night?! Where are you now? I’m coming to get you.”

 

Yoongi pulled the phone away from his ear and looked over at Key who had just nearly burnt his fingers on the pan as he wrestled with spatula. “I was helping someone.”

 

“Yoongi…” Namjoon sighed. “Stop collecting stray dogs. You’re the one who needs help right now. Just tell me where you are.”

 

Yoongi pulled a face. He was already so damn tired of being fussed over he could hardly stand it. It had felt good to help Key, to be proactive and confident in something rather than curled up in a tiny ball on the bathroom floor. If Namjoon thought he was going to continue to be some helpless victim, then his mission was to prove him wrong. He missed Jiyun more and more every day but somehow, it felt like she was telling him to not be pushed down by his grief. Somehow, he could feel that it was the right thing to have done to stand in that kitchen with Key. Of course, he couldn’t say as much to Namjoon.

 

“I’m not far. I need the air, I can walk back. Tell Jia I’ll be home in 20 minutes.” Yoongi clicked the phone off and scooped up his jacket. 

 

Key finally managed to flip the cake in the pan just in time for Yoongi to see. When he turned around, Key was absolutely beaming. 

 

“It’s not even burnt this time,” Key said lightly. 

 

Yoongi gave him a thumbs up and a tired smile. Without the distraction of cooking, his hangover symptoms were coming back full force. “Listen, I have to go. But…promise me something?” 

 

Key tilted his head in curiosity. 

 

“Seriously, don’t give up. Halmi Kim…and some others…would have really wanted this place to stay alive, even if they couldn’t.”

 

Key bent his head into his chest and absently tapped at the pan with the spatula. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said quietly. 

 

“Fair enough,” Yoongi conceded, though he felt like crying again. “I know what it’s like when people ask too much from you. Whatever it is you decide to do, good luck…and…thank you for not letting me freeze to death last night.” Yoongi walked toward the front door and was almost outside when Key called out to him.

 

“Min Yoongi-sshi!”

 

Yoongi turned, expectantly. 

 

“Thank you…for everything.” Key looked at the sizzling pan but thought of the full bottle of pills that were still in his pocket and not coursing through his body.  
Yoongi gave him another smile and disappeared.


	15. Teddy Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing this story out I'm realizing all the ways I could have made it better up until now. It's not turning out how I want it to and I think I'm getting a little too into Yoongi's story since Key's story is somewhat less relatable. I'll have to figure out a way to even things out and get these two boys back together soon :)

Mama Kim very nearly slapped Yoongi the moment he walked through the door. She came charging toward him, arms raised. He braced himself for the blow but when she saw his busted lip, she deflated and yanked him down into a kitchen chair.

 

“I don’t know what you were thinking. You do realize you have responsibilities, right? We can only help you so much but if you go and make poor decisions….why are you smiling?”

 

Yoongi bent his head into his chest and sighed. “I missed your nagging,” he said quietly. “It feels…normal…”

 

Mama Kim threw her hands up and shoved a rag full of ice into his lip. 

 

He balked at the pain but knew he deserved it. 

 

“Namjoon took Jia for ice cream. He decided that neither of them were ready to see you just yet. Do you have any idea how worried we were? Not a single phone call or text? Haven’t we all been through enough?”

 

Despite his initial reaction to smile, he knew he had fucked up and he felt terrible about it. But he wasn’t thinking clearly. Even now, as he got the reaming of his life from Mama Kim, he still felt justified. He’d gone out to see Sunhee, a painful part of his past, but ended up back in Halmi Kim’s kitchen, a bittersweet part of his past. He couldn’t describe it but something had come over him in that kitchen, it felt like he belonged there; like even though he was still completely shattered, all of his pieces had found a place to rest together. 

 

When Namjoon came home with Jia a few hours later, he did hit Yoongi. 

 

“You are an absolute idiot!” He grumbled angrily. “Jia, you can hit him too, if you want.”

 

Jia shook her head no and shyly nuzzled herself into Yoongi’s chest. He held he close and whispered apologies into her hair until she fell asleep.

 

For the next few weeks, the Kims practically smothered Yoongi to death with questions about when and where he was going out. They bothered him non-stop about eating regularly and enough. They hounded him about getting enough rest and drinking enough water. If he appeared even the slightest bit stressed out, they immediately coordinated who would take Jia and when so that he could have a break. He knew they were doing it all out of love but it made him feel like a prisoner.  
In those weeks that bled into not one but two months, Yoongi became completely numb and listless. Unable to even think about the word “alone”. All their coddling had sealed up any desire to be vulnerable, to cry, or to grieve naturally. Rather than helping Yoongi it felt, to him, that they were actually stifling him; preventing him from feeling the full weight of Jiyun’s loss and what to do in order to move forward. They just wouldn’t let him be sad. 

 

He tolerated their constant doting and fussing; their insistence on being together at all times but, eventually, he had enough. 

 

On a chilly morning in February, Yoongi sat in the Kim’s kitchen with a blanket draped around his shoulders and a steaming mug of black coffee in his hands. He dimly noted his dire need for a haircut as his dark locks now hung well passed his eyes. He tossed the hair out of his vision and sighed. Jia was still sleeping down the hall on their futon but he would have to wake her up for school soon. He needed to have the conversation before he took her, before his day unraveled like all the other days before this and he lost his motivation. Lately, it felt as if he’d been drowning in apathy, unable to connect to one coherent thought or feeling for more than a few fleeting moments. He was desperate to feel human again and, he had concluded, the only way to do that was to leave the warm comfort of the Kim’s house and spend some time alone at his own apartment. Telling them that’s what he wanted, however, was making him almost sick with nerves. 

 

“Good morning,” Namjoon said groggily from behind him as he entered the kitchen, his impossibly long body raised in a dramatic stretch. 

 

Yoongi jumped, involuntarily and his coffee swished around in the mug like a mini typhoon. 

 

“Whoa, you okay?” Namjoon wondered. He was worse than his mother when it came to worry. Yoongi sometimes felt the powerful urge to strangle him, with love, of course. 

 

“Yeah. I just…uhm…can we talk?” Yoongi asked, looking up at Namjoon timidly through his fringe. 

 

“You got any more coffee? Sounds like I might need it.” 

 

Yoongi nodded and knocked his chin over to the counter where he’d more than enough coffee for everyone in case this turned into another family affair. As soon as Namjoon came back, Yoongi started talking.

 

“I want to spend some time alone at my place today.”

 

Namjoon puckered his lips in surprise and leaned back a little. “Suddenly?”

 

“No. Not suddenly. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I think…I think I need to start going through Jiyun’s things. I know you guys worked really hard to put everything together in those boxes. We all agreed it would be my choice when or even if I looked through them. Well…I’m ready now.”

 

“Yoon…I don’t know…”

 

“Stop.” Yoongi’s voice was firm. “Alright. I admit it if it weren’t for you guys I’d be dead a thousand times over. You took me in when my parents kicked me out. You’ve held my hand through this whole nightmare with Jiyun…I’m thankful…so thankful…but…I’m not a little kid. I should be able to do this without having to ask for permission.”

 

“I think we should ask my mom…” Namjoon said, a bit gob smacked. 

 

Yoongi reached over and slapped Namjoon on the back of the head. “Are you listening to me at all? We’re grown men. We don’t need to ask your mom anything. I’m doing this.” 

 

Namjoon sat in quiet contemplation for a moment, hands tucked between his knees, hair a feathery mess. He couldn’t imagine Yoongi going off on his own in his state. In the last few weeks, Yoongi had become a walking skeleton, sleep deprived and crankier than normal, devoid of any smiles or laughter other than the forced displays of joy he managed for Jia. No matter how much his family tried to do for Yoongi, it seemed he was getting worse by the day. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. “Fine, okay. I hear you. Just…promise me that if it gets too overwhelming that you won’t go and do something stupid again?”

 

“I’m going to do it while Jia is at school. Whatever happens to me today, I’ll be right again by 3:00pm. I have to be.”

 

Despite paying the rent for the last two months, Yoongi had hardly been back to his apartment since Jiyun’s funeral. He’d gone once or twice with Namjoon to get a few essentials but apart from that, the modest living area had remained largely untouched. When he kicked the door open, a swarm of dust cropped up and he coughed trying to clear it away with his hand. If this place had been owned by anyone other than the current landlord, Mrs. Jeon, he was sure he’d have been evicted by now on the grounds of abandonment. 

 

Instead, it seemed she had put his room to good use while he was away. Judging by the fast food wrappers on the kitchen table and busted Adidas sandals in the foyer, she’d been letting her grandson, Jungkook, take up residence there while he was away. Yoongi didn’t mind. Jungkook was only a few years younger than him, a college student, actively making something of his life in a way Yoongi knew he’d never be able to do himself. If he needed a place to crash while he was in town, so be it.

 

Yoongi crumpled up the wrappers and made his way to the trashcan when he caught sight of them. Pushed against the living room wall, boxes stacked two or three tall, in neat piles. They seemed to be glaring at him, daring him to come take a closer look. Going through them was his mission for the day but now that he was actually staring at them, he didn’t know if he could do it. Suddenly, the kitchen was “safe zone” and the living room was lava. 

 

Yoongi vaguely remembered Mama Kim telling him that she had sorted all the boxes at his apartment. As for when she’d found the time or the motivation, he had no idea but now, as he stared at the clearly labeled containers of Jiyun’s belongings, he felt a sickening sense of dread clawing its way through his stomach. He knew this was something he needed to do alone, at his own pace, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was much bigger than creating “keep” and “donate” piles. This was him, sitting face to face, with Jiyun for the last time. Practically all nine years of her existence lay tucked away in these boxes. Baby clothes, locks of hair, favorite toys, shoes she grew out if too quickly, ticket stubs to movies and plays, photo albums, and silly little notes…the drawings they had created together…they were all right there, innocently, excruciatingly waiting for him.

 

He drew in a deep breath and summoned the strength to go into the living room. He sat on his knees, in front of the boxes, and, slowly reached out to touch one with his fingertips. He felt his whole body tighten to the point of physical pain. It was the first real sensation he’d had in months and he let it come. 

 

“Jiyun-ah…” he mumbled. “Is this really okay?” 

 

He let his hand fall into his lap and took a few deep breaths. Was he expecting her to answer him? He’d heard about all kinds of paranormal experiences people had had with lost loved ones; microwaves turning on out of nowhere, lights flickering, rooms suddenly filling up with their scent, even the sound of their voice or laughter ringing out at odd hours of the day but Yoongi hadn’t experienced anything like that. Jiyun was really gone; far, far away from him. 

 

With a great deal of effort, he reached for one of the boxes. He didn’t bother to read what was supposed to be inside. He knew Mama Kim meant well when she took the time and care to label the boxes but, to him, it didn’t matter. It was all Jiyun. _His_ Jiyun. 

 

The tears were in his eyes before he even pulled out the first item, obscuring his vision. He scrubbed them away with the back of his sleeves and looked down in his hands. His heart clenched. For a moment, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. His pulse was a hollow thump in his ears as he took in the small brown teddy bear in his hands. 

 

_He’d fallen asleep at his writing desk, pencil still clutched in his fingers, drool pooling on the edge of his writing assignment. He felt a sharp_ thwack _sail into his back that almost sent him sailing out of the chair._

_“Get up! Get up!” Namjoon’s voice was urgent, buzzing around his head as he scurried from one end of the room to the other._

_Yoongi squinted into the bright light of the room, which was made even more obnoxious by the fact that it was still dark outside. Namjoon was hopping into a pair of jeans and his shirt was half askew on his torso. Before Yoongi could ask what was going on, Namjoon threw a pair of clean clothes at his face._

_“Get dressed! We have to go! Now!”_

_“What? Why?” Yoongi grumbled, throwing the clothes to the ground. He sauntered over to his bed and flopped down on his stomach, fully ready to go back to sleep._

_“Yah! You giant idiot! Sunhee is having the baby! Get up! We need to go now!”_

_Yoongi flung himself upright in the bed, fully awake._

_“She’s what?!.... Now?!” Yoongi tore off his pajamas and stupidly tried to shove a pair of jeans over his head._

_“I can’t believe you’re about to be someone’s dad,” Namjoon scolded him as he yanked the jeans off. “Besides, these are mine. Do you really want to meet your baby looking like my jeans swallowed you?”_

_“Fuck!” Yoongi cried out as he scurried around the room looking for his own clothes. This had been a problem since he and Namjoon began sharing the room together. Though their height difference was abundantly clear, somehow every piece of clothing they owned meshed into one cohesive pile of endless laundry. Mama Kim was none too happy about it._

_Yoongi finally found his own clothes and pulled them on with shaking limbs. This was it. This was really it. He suddenly couldn’t move. “What do we do now?” He asked gormless._

_“Go! Go! Go!” Namjoon shouted as he charged out of the room and grabbed Yoongi by the wrist._

_The whole family was waiting in the foyer. Dr. Kim announced he would go start the car. Kyungmin, just 11 years old at the time, was anxiously skittering by Mama Kim’s side as she held Sunhee’s hand and told her to take deep breaths._

_Yoongi raced to Sunhee’s side and grabbed her other hand tightly in his. He looked at her, utterly panicked, as he took in the raw pain in her expression._

_“This fucking hurts!” She screamed as she clenched her hand around his and nearly crushed his bones._

_“I know it fucking hurts…I’m so sorry…” Yoongi could suddenly empathize a lot better._

_“Yoongi!” Mama Kim scolded him with a sharp smack to the back of his head._

_“What?! She cussed!”_

_“She’s having a baby! When you squish a tiny human out of your butt, then you can cuss too. Now get a hold of yourself and help me get her to the car. Namjoon, take Kyungmin, please.”_

_Namjoon took hold of his baby sister and watched the circus that was his family head out the front door._

_At the hospital, things got serious, quickly. Sunhee had been wheeled into the emergency wing for immediate surgery. The baby’s heart rate was dropping and Sunhee was losing a lot of blood. Yoongi was beside himself. He’d been anxiously waiting for the day he could see his child enter the world and take its first breaths but, suddenly, he didn’t even know if any of that would be possible._

_“I did this to her…” he mumbled as Namjoon slung his arm around his shoulders. “I’m the reason she’s going through this…”_

_“Hey, stop feeling sorry for yourself. Everything is going to be okay. Let’s go for a walk.” Namjoon motioned for Kyungmin to come along with them and the three of them set out to the downstairs lobby._

_At that time, Yoongi still couldn’t believe that Namjoon’s dad owned the entire hospital. The place was gigantic and probably the most modern building in all of Daegu. As they slowly sauntered down the outer hallways, he felt like he was lost on a movie set full of modern works of art and glass architecture. His own father was a working class man. They’d never had much money and his father always seemed genuinely dismayed when he had to spend any of it on Yoongi and his older brother. He’d never known a life of abundance until he experienced life with the Kims. First class everything. Regular meals. Multiple cars that never ran out of gas. The latest technology. It was suddenly all at his fingertips. As they walked together, Yoongi, born into near poverty, alongside the unspeakably wealthy Kim siblings, he wondered, desperately, what kind of father he could possibly hope to be. Could he be like Dr. Kim one day and give his child the best of everything or would he be irritable and stingy like his overworked father?_

_The three of them stopped outside the gift shop at Yoongi’s insistence. “I want to get something for the baby,” he announced. It was the only thing he could feel certain about._

_Namjoon and Kyungmin followed him into the shop but they all eventually went their separate directions. Yoongi was immediately drawn to the shelf of stuffed animals. When he was little, he’d had a small, stuffed teddy bear that he slept with every night. It had been years since he’d seen the thing but he distinctly remembered the warmth and comfort it provided him as a young child. He didn’t know what he could provide for his child at just 16 years old or if he would end up like Dr. Kim or his real father or possibly someone else entirely, but he did know, if nothing else, he wanted to give his child comfort._

_His eyes roved over the selection, scanning for a brown teddy bear similar to the one he’d owned. Eventually, he found one that was nearly identical. A small gasp escaped him as he reached for it and held it in his hands. The fabric was silky soft on his fingertips. He squished it to see if it was as floppy as the one he’d owned and smiled as he realized it was even plushier. He carried it to the register, only half looking where he was going. He couldn’t stop imagining the moment he’d be able to give it to his baby._

_“Are you going to buy that?” Namjoon asked, suddenly behind him._

_“Huh? Oh, this?” He held up the bear and made it wave at Namjoon. “Yeah. Remember mine? I brought it to school in second grade and everyone made fun of me.”_

_“Yeah and I defended you even though I was only in first grade.”_

_“Wait…is that how we became friends?” Yoongi suddenly remembered._

_“Yes. That exact day and you’re still just as much of a nerd.”_

_“Yeah, well, at least I have a girlfriend,” Yoongi shot back, lamely._

_“I really, REALLY can’t believe you’re about to be someone’s dad,” Namjoon sighed, covering his face with one hand._

_Yoongi pulled a face and set the bear on the checkout counter as he fished around his pockets for the wadded up note he remembered leaving in those jeans._

_“Dude, my dad owns the hospital, you don’t have to pay for this.” Namjoon went to snatch the bear off the counter but Yoongi stopped him._

_“No. I want to pay for it.”_

_“Why? You could buy like two Xbox games for the price of that thing.”_

_Yoongi rolled his eyes and laid the money out on the counter. “This may be the only thing I’m ever able to afford for my kid,” he explained quietly. “I know it’s not much but…maybe…one day…their future best friend will come defend them on the playground for bringing it to school. I think that’s worth more than some video games.”_

_Yoongi walked into the hospital room on shaking legs. His heart was thumping nearly out of his throat and into his teeth. He had no idea meeting someone for the first time could be so genuinely horrifying. Mama Kim nearly pushed him into the room before shutting the door behind him. The only way to go was forward, toward Sunhee and the small pink baby in her arms._

_He clutched the bear to his chest as he quietly stepped toward the edge of the bed. He wasn’t sure where to look or who to address first. It seemed to him that his whole world was confined to those sheets._

_Sunhee looked gorgeous; more gorgeous than he ever thought possible; glowing, even in her exhaustion. He sat down beside her, pushed the hair away from her forehead and give her a gentle kiss. The next moment fell upon him like gentle snow. Beautiful and intricate and breath taking. He saw, for the first time, his child, making soft grunting noises against Sunhee’s chest._

_His eyes immediately welled up with tears. He couldn’t stop staring. He truly, honestly, had never seen anything as beautiful as that little wrinkly bundle of skin.  
“Do you want to hold her?” Sunhee asked him, tears in her own voice._

_“Her?” Yoongi asked, dumbstruck. “It’s a…I mean she’s a…we have a daughter?”_

_Sunhee nodded and a few tears slid into her gorgeous smile._

_He smiled back, completely jammed up with every single emotion he’d ever felt in his 16 years of life. He set the bear off to the side and, before he could let the fear set too far in, reached out his arms for the baby._

_Sunhee handed her over. As soon as that little body was in his arms, Yoongi transformed into an entirely new person. He was no longer some idiot 16-year-old boy with below average grades and half-hearted dreams. He was this child’s father. There was purpose and meaning and vitality in that notion and even if he didn’t know how to put it into words, he knew that he would do literally anything for that little girl, no matter how impossible._

_He sniffled quietly as he traced the lines of her impossibly tiny face with the edge of his pinky. “Hey you,” he cooed to her. “We gotta think of a name for you. Since you don’t have one yet, I’ll introduce myself first. I’m your appa. I make bad jokes and I’m really stupid sometimes but if you like dance parties and underground rap music, I think we’ll be best friends.”_

_Sunhee laughed quietly from the bed but the next time Yoongi looked up, she was fast asleep. It was already just the two of them, him and his baby girl, alone. Predictably, she became a little fussy after a few minutes, her tiny pink hands stretching outward toward him._

_“Ah, it’s okay. Uhm…don’t cry…look…” he reached over for the teddy bear. The baby’s eyes were closed as she let out a few mewling cries but Yoongi thought it was as good a time as any to introduce them. He took one of the bear’s paws and gently rubbed it against her palm. “Shhh, it’s okay.”_

_Miraculously, it worked. The baby stopped crying._

 

Jiyun carried that bear around with her everywhere until she was three years old and gave it to Jia. Yoongi was right, the bear had been used to help her meet her best friend. 

 

Yoongi didn’t know how long he’d sat there, reminiscing about that memory but his whole body ached, and he felt absolutely nauseous. He laid down on the floor and hugged the bear to his chest until his phone alarm went off at 2:50pm. It was time to be okay again. As he sat up, his head felt foggy and dizzy. His cheeks had gone raw from the tear stains that hadn't dried in the long hours he'd been there. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, dreading how puffy he'd still look at he showed up to Jia's school. He was so lost in this thought that he almost didn't see it. 

When he'd pulled the bear out of the box, something else had come with it. Small, white, flat, and slightly crumpled, it was clearly one of Jiyun's drawings. He reached for it, tentatively, and turned it over. He couldn't believe what he was looking at. Yoongi coughed out a sob and the tears rushed out of him hotter and faster than ever.

With numb fingers he reached for his cell phone and quickly dialed Namjoon's number.

"Namjoon-ah..." he sobbed into the receiver. "I did something stupid...I've been doing something stupid for a long time...I don't think I can get Jia from school like this...I need to fix something...I'm-I'm sorry...can you please..." he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his hand. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Yoongi, what happened? Are you hurt?" Namjoon was in a panic.

"No," Yoongi gasped, blindly putting the bear back into the box and getting to his feet. He carefully slid the picture into his pocket. "Please, I'll explain everything later. Tell Jia I'm sorry...this is for her...I have to go."

Yoongi shut off his phone and forced himself to take deep, steady breaths before he headed out. He was suddenly more sure and confident in himself than he'd been in months and Jiyun had put it into motion, single handed. He needed to go back to Sindorim Cafe.

The walk to the cafe wasn't long but by the time he got there, the crisp, cool air had cleared up his lungs enough for him to at least breath normally, though his nose and eyes continued to run out of control. Vision obscured and slightly out of his mind, it took him a moment to take in the situation in front of him. In broad daylight, two men were taking baseball bats to the front windows of the cafe. Shatter glass sputtered out into glittering shards on the snow.

"Yah! You assholes! What do you think you're doing?!" Yoongi shouted into the frozen air. He ran toward them, heedless of what might happen next.


	16. Broken Windows

Key had been in Seoul for almost a month, searching desperately for anyone capable and trustworthy enough to help him with his business venture but, so far, had come up empty. Considering all the scandal and bad press, Key was hard pressed to find anyone that would even talk to him let alone do favors for him. He should have known going to Seoul would be a futile endeavor, but he was running out of options. 

 

Once the public got wind that Halmi Kim had entrusted everything to Key, they moved on from trashing his apartment to trashing the café. Busted windows, graffiti, gouge marks in the siding, the list of repairs was endless and grew, seemingly by the day. He had no idea what to do other than pay for the restorations and have security cameras installed. Throwing money into the café was the least of his worries. He had plenty of that. What the incident taught him, however, was that he had been right to keep his name out of any connection with the café.

 

He’d hoped he could find someone in Seoul who was at least willing to pretend to take over the business side of things as a sort of decoy to shift the focus off Key but there was no one. He, again, thought about calling Jinki, Minho, or even Taemin to see if they could help him somehow but what could they do from their military posts? Besides, it was dangerous for him to be in contact with them. Was he really so desperate that he would inflict himself on them while they were in the lion’s den? He decided he wasn’t. There needed to be pride somewhere in all of this.

 

He returned to his hotel room that afternoon, defeated. He yanked at his tie until it hung loose around his neck and threw off his blazer. He looked and felt stupid wearing such nice clothes for so many people to spit on. What was point?

 

He raided the mini fridge and twisted off the lid of some liquor he didn’t bother to look at. He just wanted something to wash his pain medication down with. He’d been walking around all day and his leg, though free of its plaster prison, was jolting with pain. Things were getting unbearable again. Coming to Seoul had really been his last option and now, it was clear, he’d met failure once again.

 

Just as he was about to down the whole bottle, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it, hope soaring through his body. Could it be a contractor? A PR rep? One of the many chefs he’d tried to recruit? 

 

“Hello?” He called into the receiver, trying not to sound as dreadful as he felt.

 

“This is Detective Lim at the Daegu Police Department. Am I speaking with Kim Kibum-sshi” 

 

“That’s me,” he said, puzzled. 

 

“I’m sorry to have to call you so suddenly but it seems there’s been a break in at Sindorim Café. You are the owner of this property, correct?”

 

“Mhhhmmm,” Key sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He took a big swig of alcohol.

 

“We apprehended the intruders at the scene. They appear to be some kids from around the neighborhood: Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Do you know them?” The police officer asked.

 

Key shook his head no. They sounded like they were a couple of dangerous little brats. “No, I don’t.”

 

“I see. Well, they are being held for questioning at the moment and their families have been notified. Fortunately, nothing of value was stolen but there was some structural damage. The front window was shattered. Are you in the area? You will need to have that cleaned up as soon as possible as per county rules. If you’re out of town we can put you in contact with a restoration service.”

 

“I’m in Seoul but I plan on leaving tonight. Can it wait a few hours?” 

 

“Of course. Also, there’s one other thing. Do you know a man by the name of Min Yoongi?”

 

Key nearly chocked on his next swig of alcohol, mid sip. “Who?”

 

“Min Yoongi. Do you know him?”

 

“I…yes…kind of…” 

 

Kind of. Not that he would reveal this to perfect stranger, much less a police officer, but Min Yoongi continued to be a name that was forever revolving around his mind. If he was being honest, he hoped Min Yoongi would come back at some point. Every day he woke with the hope that he might get to see that handsome face and kind smile one more time. But he never showed up. Key never even saw him out and about in that corner of town and after a week or two, he put the thought out of his mind as much as he could. He was considerably less vulnerable now that his cast was off, and he was literally back on his feet. Maybe his chance encounters with his “guardian angel” were at an end. What could Min Yoongi, suddenly, have to do with all of this?

 

“Min Yoongi was at the scene when we arrived. Apparently, he was the one who subdued the intruders and contacted us. He said he had business at the café but we haven’t been able to confirm that. We have him down at the station right now for questioning, but we can’t let him go without your confirmation.”

 

“Uh…yeah…yeah…he’s a friend. You can go ahead and release him.”

 

Key gathered his belongings as fast as he could and called for a taxi to take him back to Daegu immediately. 

 

**Namjoon**

 

Namjoon smiled at Jia through the rearview mirror. The little girl was looking sadly out the window, clutching a Barbie doll in her hand. 

 

“Jia-ah,” he said in a warm voice. “Your dad isn’t feeling well today again. I hope it’s okay that I picked you up from school.”

 

She didn’t answer. 

 

Namjoon deflated, slightly but kept smiling. “Do you want to go get ice cream?”

 

“I’m sick of ice cream,” he muttered. 

 

Namjoon bit at his lower lip, trying to think of something else he could offer her but he knew it was impossible. First her mother had left her, then Jiyun had passed away, now Yoongi, for some inexplicable reason, was pulling away from her too. The only person who could make this better was Yoongi and he was off having an emotional crisis somewhere. Namjoon was furious at his friend for the way he had been acting. Yes, they were all grieving, but it wasn’t an excuse to dump Jia and go running all over town as if she came second to his own agenda. He longed to have that conversation with him but he knew it would fall on deaf ears. Yoongi was not Yoongi anymore. Sure, he went through the motions of taking Jia to school and picking her up (most days). On the weekends they went to the park or had dinner at his place, just the two of them, but it was all an act. 

 

Namjoon knew Yoongi better than the brave face he put on every day. He knew Yoongi was falling apart and none of them could reach him where he was slipping off to. As much as Namjoon dreamed of holding Yoongi in his arms and mending all of his pieces, he knew that would never, ever happen. The best thing he could do for Yoongi now was look after Jia. She needed someone on her side. She wasn’t doing well at all.

 

Recently, she’d been having night terrors so intense that they made her wet the bed. She had gone back to sucking her thumb and carrying around random stuffed toys as if she were in infant. She hardly ever talked anymore and her teacher had already called Yoongi in to have a conference about her behavior. Yoongi made promises to everyone that he would do his best to help her but, instead, he carried on with that safe lifeless look in his eyes. 

 

Namjoon was terrified that neither Yoongi nor Jia would ever be capable of happiness again, so he did what he could to bring small moments of light to both of them. Today, he decided that he would surprise Jia. 

 

“You don’t have a date with your boyfriend tonight, do you?” Namjoon asked her coyly.

 

Jia looked up at him, a glimmer of a smile on her lips. He knew he’d piqued her attention. 

 

“It’s just…I’ve been needing some new books to read…I thought maybe we could go to the bookstore and buy one or two…or seven…”

 

The smile on her face was definite now. “I can read two Dr. Seuss books now!” she announced proudly. “Can I show you when we get there?”

 

“Of course,” Namjoon beamed back at her. “But only if you let me turn the pages.”

 

“Deal!” 

 

Namjoon helped Jia hop out of the car and held her hand as they made their way to the entrance, careful to guide her around the icy puddles in the parking lot as they went. Yoongi had helped her pick out a set of rainboots that morning but Jia insisted on wearing a pair of Jiyun’s old flats that weren’t weather appropriate. Yoongi didn’t have the energy to fight her on it and she escaped the house with a victorious smile on her face. Looking at the shoes made Namjoon realize just how many things a parent really had to worry about. For a brief moment, he felt empathy for Yoongi instead of ire. 

 

No sooner did he have that thought than he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He sent Jia off into the kid’s section and sauntered behind her as he took the call.

 

“I guess it’s true what they say…the police really do give you one phone call…” It was Yoongi’s voice but Namjoon couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. 

 

“Yoongi?”

 

“It’s me,” he said, voice thick with, what? Anger? Shame? Namjoon couldn’t tell.

 

“What are you talking about? What police? Where are you?”

 

Yoongi sighed heavily and dropped his voice. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I’ll tell you everything once you get here. I need you to come pick me up from the police station…well…if they release me that is.”

 

“Yoongi…is this a joke? If it is, it’s not funny.”

 

“Why would this be a joke? I’m serious, Joon. They handcuffed me…”

 

“Seriously!? Dude, where do you think I am right now?”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“I’m with your daughter. Yes, your daughter. The one you suddenly couldn’t pick up from school this afternoon. What makes you think I can run all over town every time you make a weird phone call to me?”

 

“I…”

 

“Look!” Namjoon was shouting now. “I don’t know what the hell you did this morning that made you lose your damn mind but first you call me in tears, now, less than an hour later you’re telling me you got arrested?! There’s a reason we kept you locked in the house.”

 

“Yah! Don’t talk to me like I’m some mangy dog Kim Namjoon! You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through today. You’re the only one I can call…” Yoongi trailed off.

 

Namjoon listened, agonized, as he heard his best friend sniffling into the receiver. Sometimes Yoongi really was like a lost puppy…a little kid no more capable of navigating the adult world than his own child. Still, he refused to be swayed. Going to pick up Yoongi would mean dragging Jia across town. Not only would it spoil her bookstore surprise, he’d also have to find a way to explain why her dad was at the police station to begin with, which, Namjoon himself, hardly wanted to know.  
“I’m with Jia right now. She comes first, in case you’ve forgotten. Figure it out, Yoongi.” He hung up the phone and clutched it in a white knuckle grip. He took a deep breath to calm himself before starting off to find Jia. 

 

**Key**

 

The taxi idled to a stop in front of Sindorim Café. The exhaust pipe belched out a plume of white that sliced through the chilly black air and the pair of glowing red tail lights nearly blinded Key as he reached into the trunk for his suitcases. He paid the driver and the car rolled away. Even through the din, he could see the newly inflicted damage to his property. Every single window in the front of the café had been shattered, leaving the dingy dining room painfully exposed to the cold winter air.

 

He sighed and lugged his things toward the building. It was too late to do anything about the broken windows now. Just as he set foot on the front steps, he noticed a shadowy figure huddled up against the side of the building. He jumped backward, ready to swing on whoever it was.

 

“Kim Kibum-sshi…” he heard a voice croak from the darkness. “It’s okay. It’s just me. Min Yoongi.” 

 

Key was equally relieved and weary. He set his bags down and watched as Min Yoongi emerged into the dim moonlight. 

 

“Min Yoongi-sshi? What are you doing here?”

 

“I…I didn’t know where else to go…” he mumbled.

 

Upon closer look, Min Yoongi was frailer than ever. So thin and pale he looked more ghost than man. His voice sounded as shattered at the front windows of the café. He could barely stand.

 

Key moved closer to him, and just in time. Yoongi lost his footing and Key caught him by the elbow, holding him upright until his legs found their power again. “Let’s get you inside. You’re shivering.”

 

“I’m okay,” Yoongi lied. “I should get going…I’m sorry for always showing up here at weird hours of the night…I never used to be this creepy…I don’t think…”

 

“You’re not okay,” Key insisted. He could see it in his eyes. He knew that look. That look that, even in nearly total darkness, screamed pain. “Just come inside and get warmed up at least.”

 

“There’s a giant hole in your café…” Yoongi pointed out with a tired smile. “How much better is it than being outside?” He tried to walk away but Key caught him by the elbow again. 

 

“It’s warm in the back. Please?”

 

Yoongi, for the first time, looked at Key properly. Key blinked at him, trying hard not to flinch, praying that his cheeks weren’t turning noticeably red. It looked as if Yoongi were about to say something but he closed his mouth and lost his balance again. Key pulled him into his side and helped him into the café.

 

**Yoongi**

 

His head hadn’t really stopped spinning since he’d sat in his living room with Jiyun’s boxes. A slight, obnoxious ringing noise also swirled around his ears which made it hard for him to focus his eyes on anything for too long. Once in the back room of the café, Key made up a mat for him and he laid down, shutting his eyes to the world. 

 

Key placed a blanket over his shivering body and he snuggled into the warmth with gratitude. 

 

“I saw the assholes who broke your windows,” Yoongi muttered, sleep drawing upon him rapidly.

 

Key crouched down beside him with a glass of water. “I heard. Thank you, for stopping them. Did you know them?”

 

“One of them,” yoongi yawned. “My land lord’s grandson. I thought she had lent my room to him while I was away but it turns out he’d broken into my place too…the little shit. It’s lucky I don’t have anything worth stealing.”

 

Key nodded. “I don’t really either. I think the most important thing in this place was Halmi Kim herself.”

 

“Do you miss her?” Yoongi asked, surprising even himself. But he couldn't hold it back. He needed to know if anyone else was capable of feeling the way he felt; like a physical part of himself had been sliced out and flung into a black hole. He ached with grief.

 

Key settled against the wall next to Yoongi before answering. “More than anything…” he admitted. 

 

“Me too.” Yoongi thought of Jiyun, as always, as he spoke.

 

“Huh? You two were really that close?”

 

Yoongi realized his mistake. “No…I mean…we were close but I guess I was talking about someone else…sorry…”

 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Key assured him. “If you miss someone, you should say it. Holding that kind of pain inside, by yourself, is the worst thing you can do to your own body. Trust me. That’s why I say I miss Halmi Kim everyday…so it hurts less…” 

 

Yoongi realized, a moment too late, that he was crying again. He drew the blanket over his head and curled into himself. Perhaps, if he weren’t so utterly exhausted, he’d have felt embarrassed. He shuttered for a moment under the covers, trying hard to compose himself, but no matter what he did, the tears kept coming, out of his control. 

 

Suddenly, he felt Key’s hand on his shoulder, gently tapping out a patting motion over top of the blanket. He drew in a tired sigh and relaxed into the touch. It felt life giving to have meaningful human contact for once and he was genuinely comforted by what Key had said. 

 

“I don’t know what happened to you but…I think it was probably really painful. Every time we meet, you look less and less like someone capable of throwing me across a room.”

 

Yoongi laughed, despite himself and pulled the blanket off his head. His hair fell flat over his damp cheeks. Instinctively, Key moved to clear it away but drew his hand back as he thought better of it. 

 

Yoongi cleared his own hair away and sniffled, a small smile on his lips as he stared up at Key. “I want to show you something.” 

 

Key hung back, head cocked in curiosity as Yoongi pulled himself up into a sitting position and fished the flat white paper out of his pocket. He handed it to Key.

 

Key studied the drawing for a moment, then looked to Yoongi with slight confusion. 

 

Yoongi took the picture back into his hands carefully and surveyed it once again. 

 

Etched into the paper was Jiyun’s famous depiction of him in cartoon form; pointy fringe, grumpy face, and short, stubby body. She drew his “character” often, especially while depicting their memories of one and other in their final game together. In this particular depiction, Yoongi wore a chef’s hat and an apron. Clutched in either of his cartoon hands, a comically oversized spatula and pan. On the bottom, scrawled out in Jiyun’s handwriting, was a message. 

 

_“Appa! Are you happy yet? We’ve been spending so much time drawing our memories, I wanted to draw my future wish for you. Please make delicious pa jun again. It tastes better when you make it with a smile. Appa, fighting!”_

 

Yoongi scrubbed the tears off his cheeks again with the back of his hand. “My daughter, Jiyun, drew this, right before she…right before she died…” Yoongi managed to say. “I’ve been really lost and…scared…since it happened. Up until today, I didn’t know what to do. But then I found this and…I’ve never been more sure of anything. I know it’s been hard on you and it would make more sense to give up but…please…let’s try one more time to open the café. The two of us.”


	17. Repairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly fluff and tears. If you're getting bored you can probably skip this one lol :) If you like fluff and tears, then enjoy!

Key looked sadly from the picture to Yoongi’s tear streaked face and gave him a gentle smile. “I’m really starting to believe that’s not possible,” he said.

 

Yoongi sniffled. “Of course it is! We…we can fix the window and…and…”

 

Key gave him a small head shake, trying to keep his smile as gentle as possible. It was clear to him that Yoongi had put his whole heart into the idea of working at Sindorim Café one more time. He loved Sindorim Café too. He’d grown up in that kitchen and made some of the best memories of his life there, but he was resolute. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. Now that he knew a bit more about Yoongi’s situation, the loss he was going through, he felt even less inclined to burden him with the task of opening the café. The sheer effort to get the place up and running would be no joke. It took every ounce of strength a person possessed to keep a business afloat. Loving it was only half of the equation. 

 

Yoongi chewed at his bottom lip, tears endlessly dripping off the tip of his nose, as he tried to think of ways to convince Key of his plan. He felt like he was sliding right off the edge of the earth. This café was his last chance to hold on, to pull himself back from the furious darkness that threatened to eat him whole.

“Min Yoongi-sshi, you look exhausted. We can talk more about this in the morning, okay?” Key gently guided Yoongi back to the pillow and covered him up with the blanket.

 

Yoongi didn’t fight him; couldn’t. He closed his eyes, and Key was genuinely shocked at how quickly he fell into a deep sleep.

 

Key watched him for a moment, taking in his delicate features, obscured by his puffy skin and messy dark hair. He felt like he’d known him his whole life, somehow. He sighed and his eyes fell, once more onto the drawing still tucked in Yoongi’s hand. He surveyed it more closely trying to work out the full story behind it. It made sense to him now why Yoongi looked so frail and despondent. Key had lost his beloved grandmother and he was painfully upset about it but, in the end, he reasoned, grandparents were supposed to die. Yoongi had lost a child. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what that felt like. Just thinking about it made all of his problems pale in comparison. 

 

He felt overcome with empathy for the exhausted, shivering man who had saved him so many times. He knew, this time, it was his turn to save him. But how? Without really thinking about it, he slowly reached out to push the hair off of Yoongi’s face but before his fingertips could connect, Yoongi’s phone started buzzing wildly in his pocket. 

 

Yoongi groaned and curled into an even smaller ball but didn’t quite wake up. 

 

“Shit!” Key diverted his hand and was about to reach into Yoongi’s pocket before he came to his senses and realized that would be an even bigger invasion of privacy, particularly considering where the phone was laying in his pocket. 

 

The phone continued to buzz out of control as Key flitted around nervously, trying to figure out to restore peace and quiet to the room so Yoongi could keep resting.  
Eventually, Yoongi reached into his own pocket, grabbed the phone, and hurled it away from himself, all without opening his eyes. 

 

Key dove for the phone and caught it in both hands just before it could clatter to the floor.

 

“Hello?” He hissed into the receiver, heart pounding. He looked over at Yoongi who was now lightly snoring, clearly not even close to waking up. 

 

“Where the hell are you?!” And angry voice thundered through the speaker.

 

Key pulled the phone away from his ear and read the name on the screen. Mama Kim. 

 

“Ah…um…”

 

“Don’t you dare try to make any excuses! I don’t know what has gotten into you Min Yoongi but the minute I find you…”

 

“Ma’am…I’m sorry…this isn’t Min Yoongi.” Key said as politely as possible. 

 

“What? Who are you?” She demanded.

 

“My name is Kim Kibum. I’m a friend of his. He’s actually at my place right now, resting.”

 

“Friend?” The female voice questioned. “When did that idiot make a friend… _aish_ …”

 

“He used to work at my grandmother’s café. We met a long time ago but lost touch. I’m just now back in town so I invited him to visit,” Key lied. He hoped this explanation would ease any punishment Yoongi had yet to face with the people he loved. It sure sounded better than the very sordid truth.

 

“What café? Who is your grandmother?” 

 

Key gave the irate woman all the information he asked for until he heard her drag in a big sigh from the other end. 

 

“Well Kim Kibum-sshi,” she began, sounding much more sane now that she had some answers, “it seems our Min Yoongi has gotten himself into a lot of trouble today. I can’t say that I’m happy about this but I trust, since you’re his friend, you’ll take good care of him tonight. As soon as he wakes up, give me a call. He and I need to have a chat of our own.”

 

The phone clicked off and Key let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He went over the phone call he’d received from the police while he was still in Seoul. Yoongi had been arrested along with those punks who broke the window and still, he came back to the café as soon as he was let go. Key decided that Yoongi was either crazy or desperate…potentially both…to have returned. Could he really want to be there this badly? His family was right to worry about him.

 

 

**Namjoon**

 

“But where is he?” Jia hiccupped as she rubbed the tears off her tiny pink cheeks. “He was supposed to be home a long time ago.”

 

Namjoon pulled her into his lap and held her against his chest. “I know it must be scary for you, not knowing where he is, but I promise he would never leave you for good. He’ll be back soon.”

 

“I can’t sleep unless he tucks me in.”

 

Namjoon exhaled and pulled Jia up so he could look at her. He gently brushed her tears away with the edges of his thumbs and gave her a smile. “Just for tonight, is it okay if I do it?”

 

Her lower lip trembled but she nodded yes. 

 

Namjoon hugged her again. “I know it’s not the same,” he whispered, “but I’ll do my best.” He helped her under the covers and brushed the hair out of her eyes.  
She stared up at him for a long moment. “Uncle Namjoon?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Did my dad go out to look for Jiyunnie?”

 

Namjoon stopped stroking her hair for a moment, slightly caught off guard. “Why do you think that?” he asked carefully.

 

“Well…I know Jiyunnie is in heaven right now because that’s where everyone says she went. I know heaven is far away and we had a goodbye party to send her there. I still wait for her sometimes to come play with me but I know it’s hard for her to come back so I stopped looking for her. Dad, when he’s sleeping, calls out for her sometimes. He has a lot of nightmares and he always looks really sad. I think he’s still waiting for her to come back even though I keep trying to tell him she won’t. So…maybe he’s out looking for her.” 

 

Namjoon forced himself to keep his emotions at bay and began gently stroking her hair again. “Jia-ah, how did you get to be so smart?”

 

She shrugged and stuck her thumb in her mouth. 

 

Namjoon gently pulled at her wrist. “Why do you suck your thumb all of the sudden?”

 

She shrugged again. “It helps me sleep, because I’m scared at night.”

 

“What are you afraid of?” 

 

“Going to Heaven…like Jiyunnie. She went to sleep and didn’t wake up. I don’t want that to happen to me, so I try to keep my eyes open for a long time at night, but it never works. I always fall asleep. I get really mad at myself when I wake up.”

 

Namjoon nodded empathetically. “You know, Jia, Jiyunnie was sick for a long time before she went to heaven. You’re not sick. You’re very healthy. One day, you’ll go to Heaven, but not any time soon. For now, you’re stuck here, with us.” He made a silly face at her and planted a kiss on her forehead. 

 

She didn’t smile. She still looked extremely troubled. 

 

Namjoon held her hands in his. “Jia…what’s that face for? You still look very sad.”

 

“Maybe I won’t go to Heaven like Jia…but…one time I went to sleep and when I woke up mom wasn’t here anymore. She never came back. Now dad is gone. If I go to sleep and wake up in the morning…will he stay gone too?”

 

Namjoon closed his eyes and let his head drop to his chest. He could kill Yoongi right now. No child should have these worries and instead of making them better, he was adding to them. When he looked up, Jia was crying again. She took her hands out of his and covered her face as tiny sobs hiccuped through her body. 

 

Namjoon didn’t bother to hold his own tears in anymore. Cheeks wet, hands shaking in anger, he came round to the other side of the futon, where Yoongi should have been laying, and climbed under the covers with Jia. He pulled her into his arms and rubbed her back until she calmed down. 

 

“Uncle Namjoon…can you stay here until I fall asleep?” she whimpered. 

 

“Of course,” he whispered back, voice thick. Within a few minutes she was in a sound sleep. He held on to her a bit longer before sliding out of the covers and down the hall to his own room. 

 

Once in the privacy of his own space, her let his anger and frustration and grief bleed through him. He couldn’t stand this. Everything was falling apart and he was getting tired trying to pick up all the pieces. He couldn't bear to see tears in Jia's eyes again. He balled his fist into a mass of white knuckles and blindly drove it into the wall where Yoongi’s bed used to be when they were teenagers. 

 

“Fuck!” he shouted, falling to the ground, cradling his bruised and bloody hand to his chest. He fell asleep on the floor, tears cutting salty trails down his cheeks. 

 

\-----

 

The next morning, Yoongi woke up before the sun. This time, he knew exactly where he was but despite not drinking the night before, he felt sicker than ever. He sat up and looked around for Key but couldn’t find him in the warm, grey-lit room. He pulled the covers off of himself and went to go look for him. 

 

The dining area was incredibly cold. Even through his thick sweat shirt and jeans, the chill whipped through him and cracked at his bones. He spotted Key immediately. Bundled in an extremely expensive looking scarf and jacket, which looked odd paired with the grey rubbed gloves on his hands, he was on his hands and knees picking up glass shards off the floor and dumping them into a bucket. 

 

“Ah, Min Yoongi-sshi. You’re up early. Be careful, it’s dangerous over here.”

 

“Why are you doing that by yourself?” Yoongi asked. 

 

“Work ethic,” Key said proudly. “My grandparents built that window with their own hands. It’s my job to clean it up with mine.”

 

Yoongi liked the sound of that.

 

“Anyway…I’ve been thinking all morning…” Key said, taking a break and closing the gap between them. “…about what you said…the picture you showed me…”

 

Yoongi looked away and unconsciously felt for the drawing in his pocket. Somehow it had returned there while he was sleeping. 

 

“I think you’re right. We shouldn’t give up. We both have people who would be incredibly upset with us if we gave up on this place.”

 

Yoongi brought his gaze up to meet Key’s, to check if he was being sincere. 

 

Key stared back at him, steadily. “Let’s try one more time…for Halmi Kim and for your daughter.”

 

Yoongi bit at his lower lip and nodded, trying to hold back his emotions. “Okay,” he breathed. Hope, genuine hope, was surging through him, clearing away fragments of the misery that had taken root within him. 

 

“Min Yoongi-sshi, there’s just one thing…” Key said, hesitant. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“This is going to be stressful…I mean…extremely stressful and time consuming. Probably more for you than for me since, well, I’m probably going to need more cooking lessons.”

 

Yoongi gave a small smile. 

 

“What I’m saying is, please talk to your family before you commit to this. Last night…I’m sorry…but I answered your phone. A woman was looking for you. She sounded extremely upset and told me to contact her as soon as you woke up."

 

“Mama Kim,” he mumbled, placing a hand over his face in embarrassment.

 

“Look, I don’t know what you’re going through. The little bit that you told me last night already sounds very intense. I just want to make sure that this is something that will help you, not hurt you,” Key said. “The last thing I want for you… _especially you_ …is to be hurt.”

 

Yoogi dropped his hand from his face and looked back at Key. He was so used to people telling him to conquer his pain, to be present for his surviving child, to move on, it felt nice to hear that someone was genuinely concerned about him. He knew he needed to move on but he didn’t know how so while he was in his grief, it felt nice that someone was willing to meet him there. Yoongi smiled gratefully at Key before turning his face away. He didn’t want to cry in front of him again. 

 

“I guess I’d better call this Mama Kim of yours and let her know you’re awake so she can come scold you,” Key teased him lightly. 

 

“No. It’s fine. Really. I live close by. I can walk back.”

 

“Great. I’ll go with you.”

 

“No!” Yoongi said too suddenly. “I mean…I just…it’s already going to be embarrassing enough meeting my family after last night. I don’t need witnesses.”

 

“Then I’ll stop 100 meters away from the door,” Key bargained. “You thought I was asking, I’m telling. You’re in no shape to be on your own.”

 

People kept telling Yoongi things like this but from the vantage point of his own body, he couldn’t really understand what was so wrong about him. Sure he felt worn down and sick most of the time but he had become used to that, even before Jiyun’s death. It frustrated him that he couldn’t see what everyone was so worried about. Nevertheless, he let Key walk with him.

 

The ground crunched beneath their boots as they treaded over salt and ice on the way to the Kims. Key hung back slightly, looking as if he were ready to catch Yoongi by the elbow at any moment; like he expected him to collapse. Yoongi amused by this. Wasn’t Key supposed to be some big celebrity? How was it that he was more concerned about Yoongi’s ability to walk than being recognized by rabid fans on the street. 

 

“Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to have a bodyguard?” Yoongi asked him coyly. 

 

“Huh? Oh…” Key laughed nervously. “Yeah, probably, but my company stopped arranging things like that for me after…well…everything. It gets annoying having to call for those people on my own. I’d rather take my chances.”

 

“Sounds like you’re going through something pretty intense yourself.”

 

Key liked how this sounded like new information to Yoongi. He clearly wasn’t glued to his TV, sucking up every juicy moment the media dished out. In fact, now that he thought about it, there hadn’t been a single moment, in all the time they’d met, that Yoongi treated him like a celebrity at all. He felt his heart flutter for a moment as he recounted all their incredibly normal moments together…well, not normal per se, but… _human_. 

 

Yoongi stopped short of a posh looking housing development and turned to Key. “This is me,” he said. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

 

“You sure? I can vouch for you…”

 

“Yeah, dragging a SHINee member into my family’s living room is going to take a lot more explaining than I already have to do. One thing at a time.”

 

“You’re right,” Key laughed to himself. It was easy to forget who he was when he was with Min Yoongi.


	18. MMA Fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had another long weekend from work so I thought I'd post this chapter before my weekend was officially over. I really have no idea how many chapters this is going to end up being lol

The moment Yoongi walked in the door, he felt something hard connect to the side of his jaw. The power behind the blow, knocked him clear off his feet and he narrowly caught himself on his hands as he fell face first into the kitchen tiles. A low ringing noise sailed through his ear drums, the room was spinning. He could hardly gather the strength the right himself. 

 

“Namjoon!” he heard Mama Kim yell.

 

“Get up!” Namjoon shouted at Yoongi, his shadow drawing in on him. “You had the energy to run away again. You can find more to stand up like a man…”

 

“Namjoon!” Mama Kim’s voice was a vicious growl that sliced through the air. 

 

Yoongi, breathless and bleeding from his lip, glowered up at Namjoon. He couldn’t understand why his body wouldn’t cooperate with him; why was he was still on the ground and not fighting back?

 

Mama Kim picked him up off the floor and settled him into a kitchen chair, using her body as a physical barrier between him and her son. “Do you see the state of him? Do you?!” she shouted at Namjoon. “What kind of doctor are you going to be if you can’t even see your own friend is in poor health? What gives you the right to hit him when he’s like this? Get out! Go!”

 

“This isn’t over,” Namjoon seethed at him over his mother’s shoulders. 

 

“Yah, stop acting like a thug. Get out!” Mama Kim shoved him with her own hands and he sauntered out of the kitchen, fists clenched. 

 

Mama Kim turned back to a very stunned Yoongi and put gentle hand on his back. “I’ll get you some ice and then we need to talk.” 

 

Yoongi lowered his head into his hands. The ringing in his ears wouldn’t stop and his whole body was shaking. Still, he wasn’t naïve. He knew he deserved that punch. Part of him wished Namjoon had gone a little further a black eye or a bloody nose to match wouldn’t be out of the question. 

 

Mama Kim pushed the ice filled rag into his lip. “We really need to stop making a habit of this, you know.” She sat down next to him at the table.

 

“I just needed some time away…” Yoongi mumbled. “I couldn’t breathe here. I hadn’t cried in weeks and I was feeling like…like nothing was real…I knew that wasn’t healthy…I thought…if I could just get out on my own I could turn off the pressure cooker…but instead I had a nervous breakdown and got arrested all in one afternoon. Worst of all, I abandoned Jia again…so now…I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Yoongi. That’s normal. There is no manual for the proper way to grieve your child. If there was I’d say getting arrested probably wouldn’t be a part of it…” she let out a small laugh and rubbed his back. 

 

He laughed too but there were fresh tears in his eyes. 

 

“I know you know this but…if you’re looking for somewhere to start…I’d say Jia is your best bet. Have you talked to her?”

 

“We talk all the time,” Yoongi sniffled, dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. 

 

“No. I mean really talked to her?”

 

Yoongi paused. He wasn’t sure what Mama Kim meant. Jia was practically a baby still. He assumed she couldn’t understand much about Jiyun’s death so he used that as a convenient way to avoid a slew of painful conversations he didn’t want to have. 

 

“I thought so,” Mama Kim took his silence as confirmation. “The reason why Namjoon is so upset, is because he’s been looking after her while you’re away. He’s tired of doing your job for you. He’s hurt because she’s hurt. He’s hurt because you’re hurt.”

 

It was hard to muster up much empathy for Namjoon with his lip throbbing in pain the way it was but Yoongi could still understand. He blinked a few more tears from his eyes and turned his gaze to Mama Kim. “I know it’s my job. But…I don’t know how to be her dad right now,” he admitted shakily. 

 

Mama Kim rubbed gentle circles into his back and encouraged him to keep talking. 

 

“It’s just…I’m afraid. I was supposed to protect Jiyun and I couldn’t. Not from her mother…not from her sickness…not from death. I failed her…both of them…so many times. How can I stand in front of Jia like this, asking her to trust me like none of it ever happened? More than that…I don’t know how to keep loving both of them. It’s easier to just be sad about Jiyun and use it as a wall between me and Jia. If I become Jia’s appa again, if I take down that wall…it’s like I’m really letting go of Jiyun once and for all…” he trailed off as the tears took over. He sobbed quietly into the rag of ice and Mama Kim patted him gently on the back. 

 

“It’s okay to be afraid, Yoongi,” she cooed to him gently. “It’s not okay to keep running away. You are the most important person in Jia’s life. She needs you more than you need the wall that separates you.”

 

Yoongi nodded, “I know…I do…” 

 

Mama Kim pulled him into her arms and let him cry on her shoulder until he exhausted himself. “Just let it out,” she encouraged him. “If you’re sad, show us your sadness. If you’re angry, show us your anger. Don’t be alone like this anymore, Yoongi. Don’t bear this on your own.”

 

He nodded weakly to show he understood.

 

“You know, it’s pretty early. I bet she’s still sleeping. Why don’t you go in and lay down with her? I’ll make some coffee.”

 

Yoongi nodded and got to his feet, unsteadily. 

Mama Kim gripped him by the arm and gave his body a worried once over. “I’m making a big breakfast too. I want to see you eat everything on your plate. Doctor’s orders.”

 

He gave her a tired smile and headed off to his room. 

 

As predicted, Jia lay sound asleep, curled up in the blankets, hair a wild mess of black splayed all over the pillows. He nearly collapsed beside her. Gently, he pulled her to his chest and held onto her as a dreamless sleep swept him away. 

 

Yoongi woke the feeling of tiny fingers carding through his hair. He opened his eyes slowly and saw Jia laying nearly nose to nose with him, staring into his eyes. The smile he gave her was genuine.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked with a hint of laughter in his voice. 

 

“Uncle Namjoon said you weren’t feeling well. This is what you do to me when I’m sick and it makes me feel better.” She continued to run her fingers through his hair.  
He let her for a moment before pulling her into a gentle hug. He tucked her securely in his arms and breathed her in. He couldn’t believe how much he loved her or how stupid he had been to think he could cast her aside, even for a moment. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Jia.” He sighed into her hair. “You must have wondered where I was.”

 

“I was really scared,” she admitted, as he let her go and she resettled on her own pillow. Her eyes were the same amber color as Jiyun’s; bright and innocent, looking to him for answers.

 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked.

 

She nodded.

 

“I was scared too.”

 

“Really? You’re never afraid of anything. Not even spiders!”

 

Yoongi laughed but he felt the hot press of tears in his chest; nearly impossible for him to hold back. “I’ve been scared of a lot of things lately. Because of that I’ve been a bad appa to you, Jia. I’ve been hiding things from you and running away when you needed me.”

 

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” Her smile was bright and sliced through him. He didn’t deserve her. How could it be so easy for her to forgive him? 

 

“Jia-ah…I know some of what’s been going on is hard for you to understand but…” he took her hands into his and held them lightly in his grasp. “Appa has been a really bad guy lately. Instead of talking to you, I pretended to be okay even though I was actually very sad. Jiyunnie tried to teach me how bad it is to behave like that but I guess I still didn’t learn. So, Jia, can I ask you a favor?”

 

She nodded, rapt with attention.

 

“If you’re angry, will you please tell me? When something is making you sad or scared, I want you to tell me. When you’re lonely or when you miss Jiyunnie, please come to me. Okay? Don’t be by yourself. I promise, I will try to do the same.”

 

“Are you sad or scared right now?” she asked. 

 

Yoongi pursed his lips and gave her a small nod. “Can I tell you another secret?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I made a big mistake yesterday,” he admitted. “I went back to our apartment and I looked at some things that belonged to Jiyunnie. I shouldn’t have gone by myself. I think you should be able to look in those boxes too. It’s something we should do together. What do you think?” 

 

Jia nodded enthusiastically, eyes wider than ever and an excited grin on her face. “Maybe if we keep some of her old toys, she’ll finally come back from Heaven to play with me for a little while.”

 

Yoongi’s chest filled up with anxiety and dread. He never imagined he’d have to figure out how to have these types of discussions with Jia. He felt completely lost and unprepared. 

 

“Jia bug…” he clasped her hands a little tighter. “Look at me.”

 

Jia turned her brilliant smile toward him. He couldn’t help it. The tears brimmed his eyes almost immediately and flooded down his cheeks. He worked hard to swallow them away and even out his breathing so he could talk to her. 

 

“Jiyunnie…isn’t going to come back from Heaven,” he said as steadily as he could. 

 

Jia’s entire face fell. “What do you mean?” 

 

Yoongi felt like his entire body was being crushed by a steamroller. He couldn’t stand how painful this was but he knew he couldn’t let her go on believing a lie. In the end, waiting for Jiyun, who would never come, would hurt her more than the truth.

 

Yoongi took a deep breath and looked down at their clasped hands, his thumbs ran gentle tracks over her tiny knuckles. “Jiyunnie is gone forever. Heaven isn’t a place you can leave. The only way we can be close to her now is by remembering her.”

 

Jia pulled her hands out of Yoongi’s and sat up. Anger was etched into every corner of her face as she looked down at him. “You lied to me! You said we could see her again! You even talk to her sometimes!”

 

Yoongi sat up too, trying to formulate his next sentence, his next actions. Here was the anger he'd just asked her to share but he suddenly realized that he hadn’t been prepared for any of it. 

 

“I hate you!” she screamed, sailing her fists into his arm. “You said we could see her! You said we could be together again one day!” she continued to unleash her sudden attack on him until he managed to grab her arms and hold her still.

 

She fell against his chest and dissolved into tears. 

 

He held her as tightly as he could, forfeiting his fight against his own tears. They cried in each other’s arms. 

 

“Jia bug…we will see her…we will…just not here. One day…a long time from now…we’ll all go to Heaven and be together again. Okay? She’ll be waiting for you like you’ve been waiting for her all this time.”

 

He didn’t know if he really believed that but he was desperate to bring some measure of comfort to his child and to himself. They held on to each other for a long time until neither one of them had any more tears left. Puffy faced and red eyed, they pulled away and looked at each other. 

 

Yoongi smoothed out her hair and kissed her on the forehead. She nuzzled into his chest and played with the fabric of his shirt. “I love you, Jia…so much.” He mumbled to her.

 

“I’m sorry I hit you,” she mumbled back. “Does it hurt?”

 

Yoongi faked a sudden pain coming from his arm. “Really badly…I think it’s broken. Mama Kim! Come look what Jia did!” He pretended to yell.

 

Jia bolted up in his arms, alarm written all over her face until she saw that he was giving her a big smile; clearly joking. 

 

“I’m okay. You can beat me up, if you need to. Uncle Namjoon does it all the time.” He felt at his lip which was no longer swollen but still hurt. 

 

She gave him a play punch to the cheek and he dramatically fell backward onto the pillow. Jia crawled up onto his chest and sat on his ribcage.

 

“Knockout!” She called victoriously. 

 

“Ahhh!!” Yoongi sat up and scooped her into his arms, attacking her with kisses. “He’s up before the bell rings! The fight’s not over yet!”

 

Jia play punched him again and again and he retaliated with kisses all over her face and head until she was laughing so hard she couldn’t keep fighting back.  
“I win!” He smiled at her, landing one more kiss on her cheek. “Let’s go eat. Mama Kim made a big breakfast for us MMA fighters.”

 

**Key**

 

Within the day, the windows were back in place and the café looked as if it had never been touched. A thought did cross Key’s mind as he saw the new shiny windows gleaming out at him in the late afternoon sun: Sindorim Café needed a facelift…badly. 

 

It looked like a place a grandmother would own, not at all his taste or style. He quickly began thinking of interior designers he could call to come help with the project when he remembered his potential business partner, Min Yoongi. 

 

Were they partners yet? Nothing official had been set up. Nothing had been signed. It was all verbal jargon at this point. He realized he didn’t even have Min Yoongi’s number or even his address. What was he supposed to do? 

 

Before he could think too much about it, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it without looking at the number.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Kim Kibum-sshi. This is Dr. Jung how are you today?”

 

_Shit_. “Uhm…busy. Really busy. I’ll probably have to call you back, sorry…”

 

“Ah, wait, just a moment please. I see in my notes that you’ve canceled all the appointments we set up for this month. I have to tell you that I am extremely concerned. You’ve only been to my office once I the last two months. We have a new physical therapist in charge of your case, Dr. Kim Taehyung. He says you haven’t been in to see him either.”

 

“Like I said, I’ve been busy.”

 

“Well, I’ll need you to make some time in your schedule,” despite his obvious refusal to let the matter go, Dr. Jung’s voice was incredibly sunny. 

 

“Look, I think I’m okay with all this therapy stuff. I don’t really need it anymore. I’m doing okay on my own.”

 

“Be that as it may, I have strict orders to provide wellness calls to all of my patients. Lots and lots of wellness calls.” The sunniness in his voice was suddenly disturbing. Key knew he wasn't going to be able to get out of this.

 

“Ugh. Fine. When do you want to see me?”

 

“Tomorrow at 10:00am would be fantastic! We can also talk about setting up a physical therapy schedule with Dr. Kim, see if we can’t get you into a regular routine again.”

 

“Can’t wait,” Key rolled his eyes unenthusiastically. 

 

“See you bright and early tomorrow!” The phone clicked off and Key had to resist the urge to throw his into the snow.

 

 

**Namjoon**

 

Namjoon had wondered over to a nearby park and was currently kicking at a pile of _snirt_ (snow so brown and disgusting it was basically just frozen dirt.) If he had to think of a visual representation for how he felt at that moment, this hulking pile of _snirt_ would be it. He drove the toe of his shoe into the hard mass with as much force as he could extert, until the pile was nothing but a bunch of chunks scattered all over the road. 

 

“ _Aish!_ ” he screamed, muffled into his hands. “That stupid asshole keeps making me mad. It’s his own fault I punched him. He deserved. He did. I hope Jia’s beating him up too. I hope mom and dad and Kungmin all beat him up and break his stupid little stick legs so he can’t go running off wherever he feels like…ah…Namjoon…what are you saying…whose the asshole now?” he drove his hand into the side of his head as if to knock the thoughts out. 

 

He was lucky he’d been granted time away from his studies. Most students wouldn’t have had that luxury but thanks to Namjoon’s powerful father, his professors had agreed to let him make up the semester again in the Spring. Normally, Namjoon hated when his parents pulled favors for him but in this case he knew he’d never be able to focus. It wasn’t easy to explain what he was going through…he himself didn’t really know. 

 

Jiyun wasn’t his kid. There was no doubt that they never shared the same connection she and Yoongi shared but still…she was someone extremely important to him. He missed her more than he could fathom and he often found himself overwhelmed by her loss. He couldn't stop replaying all of the memories they shared over and over in his head. Trips to the park where he'd taught her how to swing. Annual visits to the fair where they tried to out do the other in cotton candy speed eating competitions. Trips to the beach where they searched for tiny crabs. Visits to museums where he carefully explained the historical significance of certain artifacts that he thought she might be interested in. She was his best friend (some days, he liked her more than he liked Yoongi) and to have been without her the last few months was almost more than he could bear. He'd cried himself to sleep almost every night, thinking about her. Of all his memories of her, however, the one that stood out most vividly was the day she was born. 

 

He’d never seen anything as small and beautiful and perfect in his whole life. He could hardly believe Yoongi was capable of creating something so gorgeous. He loved her from the moment he met her. It was a similar love that he felt for Kyungmin; one of fierce protection and adoration but…deeper, somehow. He was only 15 years old at the time but Jiyun’s arrival had made him 100% sure that he wanted a child of his own one day…however that might happen. 

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like women. He loved women, in fact. But he was mistrustful of them, especially after the way Sunhee had treated Yoongi. What his family didn’t know was that Namjoon had been with several girls; random people he met on campus or online. He’d spend a few days with each one, desperately searching for that magical “something”. Sometimes he only needed to have a simple conversation to know it wasn’t there. Sometimes he took them on nice dates to expensive restaurants or to his favorite places along the Han River but none of the women he’d met brought him a single measure of satisfaction…not even the few he managed to go all the way with. 

 

He wanted someone who would spend all day at the bookstore looking for the sequel to his favorite series because they couldn’t remember the name but desperately wanted him to have it. He wanted someone who would walk with him all the way across Yeongdong Bridge along the Han River even though it was widely agreed that no one liked the view; he wanted whoever he was with to understand that it was actually the best view because at sunset, the water turned a beautiful orange color you couldn’t see from any other angle. He wanted someone who would understand that he wasn’t funny and when he was funny it wasn’t on purpose but that’s what made the laughter even sweeter. He wanted someone, who, when their bodies touched, his heart fluttered and he felt terrified and safe all at once. He wanted someone like Yoongi. 

 

It was all a bit confusing and he found himself stressing about it entirely too often so he set the issue aside as much as he could but now that Yoongi was going through such a hard time, his emotions were switching on and off like a dysfunctional traffic light. The mixed singnals were more than he could take. He just wanted to break Yoongi once and for all and rebuild him from the ground up.

 

“He’s a human, you idiot…not a machine. Get a hold of yourself.” Namjoon muttered as he collapsed on a vacant swing and pushed himself back and forth with his feet.

 

He didn’t know when it happened but he suddenly noticed the swing next to him moving back and forth, high into the air. He looked up and was shocked to see Yoongi smiling down at him. 

 

“What the…?”

 

Yoongi swung passed Namjoon and stuck out his tongue at him over his shoulder. 

 

“Yah! When did you get so much energy! If you fall from up there, you’ll shatter into a million pieces. Skeletons are supposed to have flesh on them!”

 

Yoongi flashed him a gummy smile from high in the air and zoomed passed him one more time, out of defiance. 

 

“I’m serious! You could get hurt!” Namjoon jumped out of his own swing and put his hands out to catch the chains of Yoongi’s. 

 

“Ahhh!” Yoongi let out a childish shout and kicked his legs at Namjoon to get him away.

 

“Come here you little shit!” Namjoon shouted, a smile breaking on his face. 

 

Yoongi pulled himself up by either chain and hopped onto the swing’s seat so he was no longer sitting, but standing, sailing back and forth through the air. 

 

Namjoon conceited defeat and watched him with a smile as the icy wind blew through his hair and the swing eventually came to a stop on its own.

 

Yoongi hopped off, he gave Namjoon an apologetic look, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. “You want to finish beating me up or…?”

 

Namjoon reached out and grabbed Yoongi hard by the shoulder of his jacket, material wadded up in his clenched fist. Yoongi looked surprised but only for a moment. Namjoon pulled him into a long, almost desperate hug. Neither of them said anything for a long time until, Namjoon pulled away first.

 

“I’m sorry for hitting you…”

 

“Don’t be. I deserved it. I’m sorry for bailing on you…and getting arrested…and expecting you to always fix everything…I mean you are the God of Destruction…” 

 

Namjoon smiled, blushing slightly. "I'll destroy you if you keep doing this shit. It's not fair to Jia. Forget how we all feel about it. She's the one who needs you."

 

"I know...we fought it out..." Yoongi said, reaching his hand up to touch his arm. She became an MMA fighter today.”

 

“She took a few swings at you too, huh?”

 

“Oh yeah…” Yoongi patted his right arm where he could still feel her little fists pummeling his skin. He was shocked at how hard she could pack a punch. “She’s definitely my kid.” 

Namjoon nodded in vigorous agreement. "No one would argue with that."

 

Yoongi moved on ahead as if to head back to the house but Namjoon stopped him. "Wait..."

 

Yoongi turned to meet his gaze. 

 

"Where did you go last night? And the first time...when you met Sunhee but didn't stay with her...where did you go then?"

 

Yoongi's face froze. Namjoon could tell he was trying to work out a way to explain something that had a lot of weight to it. Maybe now wasn't the best time to place so much pressure on their newly mended friendship. Still, he wanted answers. He thought Yoongi owed him that much. 

 

Yoongi sighed and walked back to the swings. He motioned for Namjoon to sit beside him on the other one. "We're going to be here for a while."


	19. Tree House

**Daegu, 2008.**

 

 

Yoongi sat nervously across from his parents in their living room. Sunhee was by his side, unable to lift her eyes from her fingers which were wrapped tightly in the hem of her school uniform. Yoongi had tried to reassure her that everything would be okay. Though her parents had not taken the news of her pregnancy well, he was confident that his parents would be much more understanding; happy, even.

 

His mother looked at him, expectantly, but he could see that she had gone gaunt with worry and kept looking to his father to move the conversation along. He didn’t know how to say it. 

 

His father crossed his arms over his chest, quietly observing the situation. His eyes flitted from his son, to the shaking girl beside him. It was clear he already had worked out exactly what was going on but he was silently challenging his son to say it himself. 

 

“ _Eomma, Abuji_ …” Yoongi began shakily. “Sunhee and I…we’re…” he stammered and paused to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He felt like he was going to pass out at any moment. 

 

Sunhee let out a quiet sob into the back of her hand. Yoongi quickly reached for the other and held it firmly in his grasp. He bit his lip and managed enough courage to look both his parents in the eye. 

 

“Sunhee is pregnant.”

 

His mother let out a horrified laugh of disbelief. His father didn’t move a centimeter. 

 

Yoongi swallowed nervously but held tightly to Sunhee’s hand. Even though she was completely inconsolable over the whole situation, she still gave him strength. He loved her more than anything or any one on the entire planet, in the entire solar system. It didn’t matter what happened, as long as he had her. 

 

“You’re serious?” His mother demanded. 

 

Yoongi nodded slowly.

 

His mother put a hand to his mouth and looked over at his father once more, begging him to say something. Yoongi chanced a look at well. 

 

After a long while, his father uncrossed his arms, raised his hand back, and slapped Yoongi clean across the cheek.

 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His father growled, barely above a whisper. “Do you know how hard you’ve made this girl’s life…your child’s life? How dare you come to me with your head held up like this. What do you have to be proud about?!”

 

Yoongi resisted the urge to put his hand over his burning cheek. He swallowed the blood that slowly filled up his mouth.

 

His father clicked his tongue at him and motioned for him to sit up straighter. “Look here. You think you’re a man now just because you go around and do manly things? it’s time to start pulling your weight in this world. Your child…this girl…they won’t wait for you.”

 

Yoongi nodded, unable to look his father in the eye. He’d been humbled quickly. 

 

“Your mother and I break our spines so you can have food in your stomach and a place to sleep at night and you repay us by creating another mouth to feed?” he said this begrudgingly. 

 

Yoongi sunk his head further between his shoulders. The weight of his father’s disappointment made him feel desperately heavy. He wanted to disappear. 

 

“I’m…I’m sorry…” Yoongi fell into a low bow. He didn’t know what else to do.

 

“Aish!” His father reached across the table and smacked him across the head. 

 

Yoongi hardened himself to the pain. 

 

“I don’t know how I can keep calling you my son…”

 

Yoongi looked innocently up at his mother who had her own shoulders drawn, her hands resting protectively across her waist. He didn’t need her to speak in order to know that she agreed with his father. 

 

This was a terrible idea. They should have just run away; let their parents worry about them without ever telling the truth. 

 

“Do you even know how to work? How to save money? How are you going to provide for a child when you yourself are a child?!” His father berated him.

 

Yoongi nodded quietly. “There’s a café in town that will hire me without experience…”

 

“Such a place exists outside of your imagination?” His father implored. “Our family’s reputation is on the line. What will people in town think if they suddenly see you out working? There will be questions. How do you plan on confronting them?” 

 

Yoongi flinched. “It’s Sindorim Café. Halmeoni Kim owns it and she said she’s willing to teach me everything I need to know to apprentice for her.”

 

“Yah! Wake up!” Another wallop upside his head. “You will do no such thing! Her family is made up of a bunch of lunatics! Just like your friend Namjoon’s family. They’re all low-lifes, wallowing around in the dirt like worms. We might not have a lot of money but we have our dignity and I will be damned if you get involved with another family of Kims who support that disgusting Dr. Choi….”

 

Yoongi felt his anger flare as he snapped his gaze up to meet his father’s. He had heard all his life about his father’s rampant hatred for Namjoon’s family; his disappointment in him for remaining friends for all these years.

 

A long time ago, before Yoongi could even remember, a man who worked at Namjoon’s father’s hospital, Dr. Choi, had been accused of sexually harassing his patients. Yoongi’s own brother claimed to have been a victim when he was just seven years old. Despite the allegations, Dr. Kim kept Dr. Choi on his staff. Being that Dr. Kim’s hospital was the only one in the area, a lot of families moved away so they could have access to a hospital that hadn’t been soiled by the controversy. Yoongi’s parents didn’t have the money for such a luxury so they stayed in town but actively protested every single thing that went on at the hospital, weather it concerned them or not. Other families in the area, who had not been touched by the scandal, looked at Yoongi’s family as if they were the lunatics; causing a great deal of fuss over basic hearsay. 

 

Yoongi didn’t know what to believe. Mostly, he didn’t really care either way. His older brother hardly ever talked about whatever abuse his father was so upset about. He didn’t act “traumatized” he acted like an asshole older brother who treated Yoongi like dirt. He didn’t understand why his family was so over protective of him and so chonically disappointed in him…well he couldn’t understand it until now, at least. 

 

For a tense minute no one uttered a single word to each other, father and son breathing deeply from their noses as tension roiled in the air between them.  
“Yobo…” Yoongi’s mother finally spoke up. “It’s getting awfully late. Perhaps we should have this conversation after a good night’s sleep, hmmm?” 

 

Yoongi felt the tension drain from him immediately as his mother’s soothing voice smoothed out that electrified air. She discretely grasped his hand under the table and he looked away from her, hardly able to compose himself. 

 

His father gave them al an aggravated glare before getting to his feet and stomping away from the living room. Once he heard the door slam shut, Yoongi bent his head into his chest and shuttered with a sob he didn’t know he was holding in. Still turned away from his mother and Sunhee, he cried silently into the back of his sleeve, ashamed for them to see him like this. 

 

“It’s okay to be upset,” she whispered to him. “You must be thinking about so many things right now.”

 

Yoongi coughed into his sleeve and wiped his eyes. He hated himself for not having a single ounce of control over his emotions. 

 

“I can try to work…” he finally whispered back, his voice small and broken.

 

His mother rounded the other side of the table to moved in closer. She wrapped her arms around him and Sunhee and pulled them both into her chest. Yoongi relaxed into her like he used to as a little kid and closed his eyes. 

 

“Don’t worry too much about it right now. Stress isn’t good for the baby. We will figure this out.”

 

Yoongi trusted her because she was his mother and he knew there was a part of her that favored him over everyone else. She had always tried to be kind and gentle with him but she could never do it for too long. Her temper was short and she was worn down by a hard life of her own. She didn’t see reason or purpose in doting on anyone; even her own children. Perhaps she had lost the ability to stand up for herself or, more possibly, she’d never had that ability to begin with but, despite her words of reassurance that day, when Yoongi’s father made the decision to kick him out of the house, his mother didn’t try to stop it. She helped him pack a bag, slipped him as much money as she could get away with and sent him off into the world. 

 

Predictably, the moment he was outside, the skies opened up and it began pouring down rain. He kicked angrily at the ground as he walked. In no time at all he was soaked from head to toe. Cold and shivering, he made his way to the bus terminal on the other side of his neighborhood and plopped down on the bench, trying to decide where he should go.

 

He knew staying with Sunhee’s family was out of the question. She’d nearly been booted out of her own home as well but her grandmother was ill and her working parents needed her to stick around and help with her care. If it weren’t for that, Sunhee would have been out in the cold right alongside him. The situation was so bad, in fact, Yoongi didn’t even know if he would ever see Sunhee again. She’d stopped texting him the night they told his parents and the one time he dared to physically show up at her house, her father had come out holding a knife. 

 

Yoongi was crazy about Sunhee but he knew where the line was and it had been nearly carved into his body by her knife wielding father.

 

The only other place he could think of to go was Namjoon’s house so he climbed onto the first bus that stopped in front of him, even though it was headed the long way around, and rode it for over an hour until it came idling to a stop in Namjoon’s upscale neighborhood. The little bit he’d managed to dry off during the ride was pointless as he became even more wet and pathetic on his way up Namjoon’s street. 

 

His shoes squelched with every step and his hair was plastered to his head and the back of his neck. He was shivering and sniffling like crazy and the backpack on his shoulders had become eight times heavier. He was sure every single thing inside was ruined or waterlogged. Finally, looking as pathetic as a half-drowned rat, he landed on Namjoon’s doorstep. 

 

He hesitated before ringing the doorbell. What did he expect from them? Would they just immediately take him in and make this all better? He was sure they would be just as disappointed in him as his own parents. He drew his hand back and shoved it into his soggy pocket. For a long minute he had no idea what to do until, quite suddenly, he heard someone calling his name from overhead. 

 

“Yoongi!”

 

He snapped his head up and his eyes fell on Namjoon’s head popping out of his upstairs bedroom window. 

 

“Why are you just standing out there? Come inside.” 

 

“I…I can’t…I was just leaving…”

 

Namjoon pulled a face. “Why would you come all this way in the rain just to leave again?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Joonie…I’ll see you later.”

 

“Wait!” Namjoon called to him.

 

Yoongi watched as the younger boy disappeared from the window and, a few moments later, reappeared at the back door. He waved Yoongi over, concern in his eyes.  
“Did something happen?” 

 

Now, standing under the covered back porch, the rain no longer hitting him from all angles, Yoongi felt himself shiver with cold and nerves. He didn’t even know how to tell Namjoon, his best friend, what was going on.

 

“Yoongi…you’re scaring me.”

 

Yoongi sighed and looked around for a moment. Behind them, in the sprawling tree rooted in Namjoon’s backyard, there was a tree house. Yoongi, Namjoon, and Dr. Kim had built it together one summer when the boys were still in elementary school. Hardly anyone else in Daegu had the privilege of a tree in their backyard, so a lot of the neighbors were confused if not down right angry that something as crazy as a small house would be built into it but Dr. Kim was quick to shut down the hubbub. His children had been raised overseas for the first few years of their lives and even though they returned to Korea, he wanted them to have as many small remnants of their “Western” home as possible. 

 

Namjoon and Yoongi spent countless nights in that tree house, telling each other silly stories and eating way too many snacks they’d managed to smuggle out of the kitchen. In the summer, they would have sleepovers inside. They would lay on their backs and look up at the stars through the hole they’d cut out in the roof. Once, they’d even tried to paint the exterior with their favorite superheroes using Mrs. Kim’s makeup. It was the first and only time she had ever really yelled at Yoongi.  
As the years went on, however, they frequented the tree house less and less. Firmly in their teen years now, neither boy possessed their same childhood adoration for the place, though Namjoon often joked that Yoongi could still fit inside comfortably if he ever wanted to go back up for fun. Suddenly, now, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. 

 

“Race you to the tree house?” Yoongi challenged Namjoon, his gummy smile wide with mischief. 

 

“Huh?” Namjoon had barely uttered the word before Yoongi was off like a bolt of lightning. “Hey wait up!” Namjoon easily closed the gap between him on his long legs and watched as Yoongi scaled the tree and climbed inside the mushy wooden structure. Once Yoongi was inside, his legs dangling freely over the edge, Namjoon climbed up to join him. 

 

Yoongi sighed and shook out his wet hair.

 

“Yah! Did you get drunk today or something? You’re acting really weird.” Namjoon brushed some rain water off his arms as he spoke.

 

“I want to get drunk…” Yoongi admitted. 

 

“Seriously. What’s going on?”

 

Yoongi looked down at his hands, then up at the roof of their tree house. Had it always been this small? “If I tell you what’s going on…can you promise me something?”

 

“Okay…?”

 

Yoongi brought his head down and looked Namjoon in the eye. “Promise me we can still be friends. Promise me that…no matter how stupid you think I am or how much things are going to change…you’ll still stay with me.”

 

“Yoongi…”

 

“Sunhee is pregnant.” Yoongi cut him off before he lost his nerve. 

 

Namjoon’s eyes went wide in his skull. He looked like he was about to choke on his own spit. 

 

“Also, I think I’m homeless. My parents kicked me out and her parents are ready to stab me to death.”

 

Namjoon didn’t move or speak for a long moment. He was as pale as a bed sheet.

 

“I had a feeling you might react like this…” Yoongi mumbled. “I guess I should have made you lock pinkies with me before I said anything. I’ll go now…”

 

Namjoon’s hand locked around Yoongi’s arm before he could leave the tree house. Though, his face remained stoically arranged in shock. “You had sex?” he finally muttered.

 

Yoongi untangled his arm from Namjoon’s grasp and laughed quietly. “I just told you I’m going to be a dad and my parents kicked me out and that’s what you focus on?”

 

Namjoon seemed to be able to shake himself out of his trance now. “Sorry…I just…how…when?”

 

Yoongi sighed and ruffled Namjoon’s slightly damp hair. “Big picture, Joonie. I messed up. I ruined not just my life but Sunhee’s and this baby’s. I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

 

“You can stay with us!” Namjoon said confidently. “Sunhee, too, if she needs to get away from her parents.”

 

“Where are we going to stay? In this tree house?” Yoongi smacked at one of the wooden planks. 

 

“No, idiot. My parents have plenty of room. If we just explain what’s going on they won’t say no. They’re doctors. It would be a dream come true for them to have a pregnant person in the house to fuss over.”

 

“Your mom is an oncologist and your dad is a neurosurgeon. How do you figure…ugh…never mind. I’ll come up with a plan. Halmeoni Kim said she’d hire me. He grandson just went to Seoul to join some idol group. I can work full time at her café and make enough money to at east rent a motel room for a while…”

 

“Stop. You’re not going to do that. My parents will take you and Sunhee in. I promise.” Namjoon scooted to the edge of the tree house and was about to climb down.

 

“Wait!” Yoongi grabbed him by the shirt. “You’re going to tell them _now_?”

 

“Yeah. Its raining. The sooner we get inside the better.”

 

“Can you just…I mean…don’t go just yet.”

 

Namjoon gave him a puzzled look but climbed back into the tree house next to him.

 

“I just want to live in this moment a little longer.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“How many nights do you think we spent up here?” Yoongi asked. 

 

“Too many to count... but what does that have to do…”

 

“Too many to count,” Yoongi sighed. “We spent our childhood up here. Not down there, not with our parents, not at school…but here. Somehow it feels like…after we climb down this time…it will be for the last time.”

 

Namjoon fell silent in comprehension. 

 

“The moment our feet touch the ground, that’s it. Childhood is over. Well…for me at least. You never promised you’d stick by me so…no matter what your parents say, you can still keep being a kid. You don’t have to let my life effect you anymore if you don't want it to.”

 

Silently, Namjoon raised his pinky finger and held it up right in front of Yoongi’s face. 

 

Yoongi blinked for a moment before a teary smile broke out across his face. He looked from Namjoon’s pinky to his eyes. “Are you sure?”

 

Namjoon reached over and grabbed Yoongi’s hand, forcing him to raise up his own pinky. “I will never leave you, Yoongi. I’ve already ruined my reputation being your friend for this long.” 

 

They both laughed and curled their pinkies together. 

 

For a long time, they sat, fingers linked, staring out at the pouring rain.


	20. Swing Set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend again and I have just been really getting into the YoonJoon feels lately. This chapter is just a bit more fluff between the two and (perhaps) a sneak peek at what's to come. I have promised smut but I never said who would be involved ;) I hope to post a few more chapters this weekend to get the plot, you know, MOVING. I can't linger in YoonJoong world forever lol anyway...enjoy :D

Yoongi told Namjoon everything. He started from the day he met Key at the hospital, to Key helping him in return on the nights when he had wandered off and made a mess of things. Lastly, he told Namjoon about the picture Jiyun had drawn; about his overwhelming desire to help Key with the café and work together with him as a way of saying their proper goodbyes. 

 

Namjoon was silent as he tried to work everything out in his mind. He wondered if Yoongi hadn’t been hallucinating the whole thing. He was already desperately worried about his health. It wouldn’t be out of the question for Yoongi to genuinely think that he was well acquainted with a famous idol, especially someone like Key who had been in the news so much lately. Namjoon was convinced Yoongi had lost total grip on reality. He was about to say as much but when he turned back to Yoongi, he could see that his friend was still very much in reality. He looked crestfallen. 

The ache in his expression was so real Namjoon could feel it in his own body. 

 

Yoongi pushed himself along in the swing with the tip of his shoe in the cold dirt and sighed. “I just miss her.” The wind nearly carried Yoongi’s words away they were so quiet but Namjoon heard them louder than anything.

 

“I know,” he was quick to offer comfort and forced himself to cast his awkwardness aside to place a hand on Yoongi’s thigh. He couldn’t lie, hearing Yoongi talk so passionately about wanting to spend time with another person, even if he was a figment of his imagination, made him unspeakably jealous but he knew that wasn’t the point.

 

“I just need something to do about it. She’s the only thing I think about most days…but I can’t just sit around and think about her. It’s going to kill me…or at the very least get me into more trouble again.”

 

“I agree but…Yoongi…forgive me for saying this…everything you just told me sounds like total BS. I mean…you really believe you’ve been giving cooking lessons to Key from SHINee?”

 

Yoongi cracked a rye smile. “I know. I know. It sounds like I’ve lost my damn mind. Even saying it out loud just now makes me realize how insane this has all been. It’s why I didn’t tell anyone.” 

 

Namjoon still wasn’t buying it. “I’m going to need some proof.”

 

Yoongi rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. He pulled up the contact info Key had typed into the notes app and handed it to Namjoon. 

 

“Your dad stopped some pretty messed up shit from happening to Key. If you don’t believe everything in there is real, you can ask him about it some time.”

 

Namjoon tapped the phone off and handed it back to Yoongi. “This is insane,” he sighed, feeling colder than before. “Even if you’re not bullshitting me right now; even if you really are bff’s with Key from SHINee right this very moment, I have to say I disapprove. You know what he’s being accused of, right?”

 

Yoongi shoved his phone back into his pocket and huffed and angry breath. “You know he’s innocent, right?”

 

“No. And neither do you.”

 

Yoongi’s gaze grew cold. “That’s not fair, Namjoon. You haven’t been to the military yet. You don’t know how ruthless some of those guys can be. If they want to ruin your reputation, they’ll find ways to do it.”

 

Namjoon seemed to consider this. “Fine. But he is an idol. Who knows what kind of weird ass stuff he’s been through even before all these allegations. Maybe it’s karma.”

 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi demanded. 

 

“I mean, maybe he didn’t do anything bad in the military but he probably did some seedy stuff before that. This might just be the universe’s way of balancing it out. All I’m saying is you don’t really know anything about him.”

 

Yoongi shook his head and stood up from the swing, feeling overly annoyed with how dense Namjoon was being, and gave him a stern look. “I know he took me in after I couldn’t go back to your house…twice…” he pointed out savagely. 

 

Namjoon deflated. “Fair point,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

 

Yoongi nodded and sat back down on his swing, feeling surprisingly weak after the effort it took to share all of this with Namjoon. “Look, going back to work in that kitchen is such an incredibly small thing, maybe it’s even a step backward, but I was happy there. Jiyun and Jia were happy there. Jiyun’s last wish was for us to be happy even when she knew she wouldn’t be around to see it. How can I just ignore that?” 

 

Namjoon didn’t have an answer for that. As insane as this whole plan sounded to him, it was still more conceivable than a nine-year-old little girl losing her life. Maybe Yoongi needed something just as crazy to pull him back over the edge. 

 

Yoongi cast his eyes down to his chilly hands and pinched at his red fingertips, watching his skin go white before filling back up with blood. He was trying hard not to let his mind wander too far.

 

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” Namjoon said quietly. “If this is what you need to do to feel better, then I fully support you. It’s just…”

 

Yoongi looked over at him, as if bracing for a physical hit to the face. 

 

“Isn’t it a lot of work? Can the two of you really handle something like this on your own?” Namjoon’s question was implicit. He wanted to help Yoongi with this, yes, partially to keep an eye on him in the presence of an accused sexual predator, but mostly because he needed something to help him with his own grief. He missed Jiyun, desperately, as well. 

 

“You want to help?” Yoongi picked up the gist right away.

 

Namjoon nodded, trying to feel confident. Somehow, it felt like he was asking for something more; a chance to be more intimate with Yoongi; to be with him when Yoongi would otherwise try to run away and hide. 

 

“Look, I know sometimes you need your own thing so, if you don’t want me to help you with this, I understand. Just know, I’ll never be too far away. I’m walking through this hell with you.”

 

Yoongi considered this for a moment. His eyes searched Namjoon for a long moment, as if he wasn’t just looking at him but really seeing him. 

 

 _He really is always here._ He thought flashed through Yoongi like a bolt of calming lightening.

 

He felt a strange wallop in his chest, like his heart had just failed at a somersault. He half thought about reaching for Namjoon’s hand but shook the thought out of his head and cleared his throat.

 

“Don’t you have med school to worry about?” Yoongi reminded him, gruffly. “How can you possibly help with the café and keep up with your studies?”

 

Namjoon gripped either side of the swing’s chains, secretly amused at how fatherly Yooongi sounded but more disappointed that he was no longer looking at him. He bent his own head down, kicking at the snirt under his shoe. “I guess…after everything that’s happened…I’m starting to reconsider what I really want to do with my life. I was only going to med school to make my parents happy but now…” he sighed and looked up at Yoongi. He felt his heart flutter slightly as he took in his dark eyes peeking at him intently through the fringe of his chocolate bangs and had to look away again.

 

“Everything is changing,” Yoongi mused, vaguely. He then fell into that stiff silence Namjoon knew all too well. It was the type of silence that was difficult, if not impossible to pull him out of once he was there. He looked back over at him and as he took in Yoongi’s delicate face now, he could almost see the memories, the thoughts, the worries, the anxieties, the regrets, and the heartache burying him under their weight; suffocating him. 

 

Namjoon stood up off the swing and knelt down in front of Yoongi, the knees of his pants were instantly enveloped in cold, wet snow but he didn’t care. He still felt guilty for leaving Yoongi alone to fend for himself the other night. After all, hadn’t he promised a million years ago that he would never leave him? 

 

Namjoon took his cold hands into his surprisingly warm ones. Yoongi didn’t move, he was hardly breathing. 

 

“Hey,” he called to him. “Come back to me. Wherever your head is right now, leave it behind, okay?”

 

Yoongi blinked a few times, as if snapping out of a trance, before looking at Namjoon. He was shivering slightly. 

 

Namjoon smiled at him. “We should get you warmed up.” He pulled at Yoongi’s arms to guide him out of the park and back home but Yoongi didn’t move. He pegged Namjoon with a look he could not decipher. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Do you remember…” Yoongi started off slowly, “that time we jumped off the rocks at that beach in Busan? You kept landing in the water and I was jealous because I was too scared to even try it once. Then, when I finally did try it, I didn’t land in the water, I got scared mid-jump and ended up landing on the sharp rocks on the shoreline.”

 

Namjoon couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. “Yeah, how could I forget? You were lucky you didn’t break anything. Just a few stitches and a busted ego.”

 

Yoongi sighed and looked up at him, his breath making a chilly white cloud in front of his face. “Right now…it feels like I’m mid-jump. Like I just royally fucked up and I’m scared as hell because I have a pretty good idea where I’m going to land. Everyday, since Jiyun died, it’s like I carry that same type of fear, but magnified by like…ten billion…because now I’m holding Jia in my arms and the ground is sharper than before…but it’s not getting any closer. We’re in free fall, just staring down at what’s coming next. Some days it’s impossible to get out of bed just because of the sheer anxiety of it all…” He bent his head down and looked at Namjoon’s fingers tangled in his. 

 

Namjoon forced his heart to stop thrumming so fast but it was to no avail. 

 

“If I help with the café, it feels like…maybe I can change what’s waiting for us at the end of our fall…like maybe instead of sharp rocks there’s something soft…maybe we’ll still be broken when we get to the bottom but it won’t kill us.” 

 

“I think you have a good chance of being right,” Namjoon whispered. 

 

“And…” Yoongi sniffled but there were no tears, just a heaviness he couldn’t push away. “When we land in that place…I want you to be there.” 

 

Namjoon felt his legs nearly buckle out from underneath him as Yoongi made his confession.

 

Yoongi felt more confident now and laced his fingers between Namjoon’s, holding him firmly. For a long moment, he stared down at the knots their fingertips made on top of one and other and, eventually, a small, genuine smile spread across his lips. 

 

Namjoon was nearly ready to pass out from the increase in his heartrate. He couldn’t understand why or how Yoongi was suddenly behaving like this but he was unspeakably happy. 

 

“Are you jealous of Key, by any chance?” Yoongi asked, hardly believing his own confidence. He was still smiling at their laced fingers. 

 

“Huh? What? No!” Namjoon blurted stupidly. “Why are you being like this Yoongi-ah?”

 

“ _Hyung._ ” Yoongi corrected him. The smile was gone from his face, but the playfulness in his eyes was still in raw view. “Have some respect for your new boss you little punk.” Yoongi hopped up from the swing, hands still locked in Namjoon’s and wrestled him backward into the pole of the swing set. When Namjoon’s back hit the pole with a muted thud Yoongi leaned into him. He pushed against Namjoon’s hands and pegged him with a domineering smirk. 

 

Namjoon didn’t fight back, partially out of surprise, partially because he was so aroused he could hardly move.

 

Yoongi blinked at him, innocently. “Say it! Call me _Hyung_ or I’m not letting go!” 

 

Namjoon couldn’t speak. His mind was going haywire with Yoongi pressed up against his body, the heat of his breath gently warming his frozen flesh. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how horribly his expression was betraying him at that moment. 

 

Yoongi seemed to realize what he was doing to Namjoon but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pressed a little closer and gripped his hands a little tighter. “I guess I win,” he whispered.

 

Namjoon felt his entire body bristle and shut his eyes. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not kiss him. He was only in that torturous space for a brief moment because Yoongi, mercifully, let him go before he could take his next breath.

 

Yoongi playfully walloped Namjoon on the back of the head. “You looked so scared just now,” he teased. “Have I gotten more intimidating lately?” 

 

Namjoon forced a smile onto his face but he wasn’t sure that’s what it looked like. If Yoongi noticed, he was kind enough not to say anything. They headed back home in strained silence, with Namjoon wondering how much of what had just happened was on purpose. Maybe it was his turn to go insane.


	21. Files and Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobi in glasses is a fat mood. If my psychologist looked like that, I wouldn't even need his advice. I'd be healed just looking at him <3
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Key sat in the overstuffed chair in Dr. Jung’s office, nervously jostling his left leg up and down. He still hadn’t gotten enough mobility in his right leg to sit comfortably for long periods of time and the jerking motion in his left leg was keeping him from feeling the full force of his pain. They weren’t even ten minutes into their session and Key was already looking for the closest exit. 

 

“Key, we can take as many breaks as you need to. If you want to leave, you’re free to do that at well. No one is going to hold you against your will here.” Dr. Jung’s voice was quiet and soothing. He pushed his thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose and readied his pen to take some notes.

 

“I promised myself I wouldn’t leave,” Key mumbled, though his eyes were still glued to the door at his left. “I already told everything to those fake cops. Why should telling it over again to you be so hard?”

 

“Because it is hard. You went through something extraordinarily difficult, Key. Saying it out loud helps, but it doesn’t make it go away.”

 

Key looked away from the door and down at his hands. They were tremoring slightly. “This is so fucking stupid,” he muttered. “It’s not like we get a choice to go to the military…or what we get to do once we’re there…or who we have to live with in the barracks. I never expected special treatment because of my fame but I also never thought things would end up this way.” 

 

Dr. Jung nodded, empathetically. 

 

Key surveyed the doctor’s face, suddenly weary. “I can’t trust anyone. I thought I could trust Dr. Choi, I thought I could trust those cops…I was even stupid enough to think I could trust my own parents. In the end, I was wrong. It was like getting ra---” he stopped himself short of completing that word. That terrible, vile word. It was a word he’d never thought much of, perhaps even joked about on occasion, now he could hardly say it without his entire airway constricting. It was no longer a word, but his whole identity.

 

“It’s okay,” Dr. Jung assured him. 

 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can trust you,” Key cut him off. “Not just because I’ve been hurt by so many other people up until now but because…” he took in a deep sigh and looked at the door again. “…because I’ve already left my body. I’m here, physically, but…my mind…my heart…everything that makes me who I am…is floating around somewhere else. I haven’t been able to feel a single thing since that night. Now I have you, sitting in front of me with your clipboard and all your notes and your fancy degrees on the walls and I’m supposed to trust you to somehow bring my soul back to my body?”

 

Dr. Jung pursed his lips and nodded. He set aside his clipboard and pen and leaned forward on his knees, pinning Key with a genuine look of understanding. “Do you want your soul back in your body?” he asked.

 

Key hesitated for a moment, unsure where the doctor was going with this. 

 

“What I’m asking is, do you want to be who you were before all of this happened or would you like to learn how to be a new version of yourself? You have options, Key. It’s like I said, this is for you. I’m here to do what you want.”

 

Key hadn’t really thought of it in those terms before. He hadn’t intentionally been playing “victim” to his circumstances but hearing Dr. Jung lay out new pathways for him to travel made him realize that he didn’t HAVE to keep getting hurt. Still, he needed to test the waters before he could truly dip his feet in. 

 

“What I want is honesty.” 

 

“I can give you that,” Dr. Jung promised him confidently.

 

“I think my first question should be obvious. Why are you my doctor now instead of Dr. Choi? What really happened?”

 

Dr. Jung leaned back in his chair and brought his hand up to his chin. He was clearly trying to decide how much, if anything, he should divulge. “Key, there are certain lines I am not able to cross, legally or morally for the sake of my clients. I believe we’re standing at one right now.”

 

“Right,” Key rolled his eyes. “I guess a few more secrets won’t kill me.”

 

“Now, hold on,” Dr. Jung sat up a little bit. Key was struck by how young he looked, yet how maturely he carried himself. “I can justify doling out sensitive information if I truly believe it will help.”

 

Key waited for him to say more but instead he stood up and walked over to the other end of the room. His long, lean legs carried him there swiftly. 

 

“I inherited the files of all Dr. Choi’s patients when he left,” Dr. Jung said as he rifled through a filing cabinet by his desk. He pulled out a thick manila folder and set it on his desk. “Your file was, by far, the largest. He kept meticulous notes on everyone ever in his care. Not only because he worked in many fields throughout his medical career but also because of some rather damaging legal trouble he got into about 20 years ago.”

 

Key looked at the folder, trying to piece together what Dr. Jung was saying. 

 

“Apparently, he was once accused of having inappropriate relationships with some of his patients, which included young children. Some people continued to love and trust him as their primary caregiver while others called for his immediate removal. Back then, Daegu was a small place without many options for healthcare so the hospital committee was in a difficult situation. Dr. Choi saved a lot of lives at this hospital and in turn those families were willing to fight the allegations on his behalf. Other families claimed that he was a monster who had preyed on their children when they were most vulnerable. I’m new to Daegu but from my understanding, the decision to keep him employed at this hospital caused a riff in the community. Perhaps you would know the details on this a bit better.”

 

Key nodded. He knew exactly what Dr. Jung was talking about but he couldn’t understand why something that had been old news for years was suddenly relevant again. His family had been on the side of supporting Dr. Choi’s innocence. When Key was a baby, he had a heart murmur and Dr. Choi single handedly cured him, or so the legend went. Not that he had needed to be in the hospital often but when he did need medical care, Dr. Choi was the only person his family trusted.  
“My grandmother wouldn’t let us see any other doctor. Even if we just had a runny nose or a hangnail she would take us right to Dr. Choi.”

 

Dr. Jung nodded, looking slightly troubled. “This is only about half of what was written about you,” the doctor informed him. “A large part of your file and several other client portfolios have been collected by the police, real police, as part of a case they are building against him. I have not been informed about the details of that case nor do I know what the notes in your file said, which I know is frustrating to hear.”

 

“A case?” Key gasped. “For what?”

 

“As I said, I do not have that information. What I do know is that the investigators seemed particularly interested in your file. They asked a lot of questions about the faux investigation that took place in Dr. Choi’s office. I told them, what I am telling you now, I do not have that information.”

 

“So Dr. Choi is…in jail?”

 

“At the moment, it would seem so,” Dr. Jung collected Key’s file and placed it back into the locked cabinet. “I know this isn’t something you want to hear right now but be prepared to go through some more invasive questioning. If they can gather a case together against him, for whatever he was up to, you’ll most likely be a key witness.” 

 

“So now I have to answer your questions and more police questions?”

 

“Potentially. Again, we’re talking about crossing some serious lines here. I only told you this because I know as much as you do. There was no risk in divulging something overly sensitive to you. The only thing I hope this established was the honesty you asked for.”

 

Key nodded to himself, feeling more confused than ever. It was becoming more and more clear to him that what he had already suffered through was just the tip of a very large iceberg. 

 

Dr. Jung made his way back to his chair and sat cross legged across from Key. “Also, you don’t have to answer any of my questions if you don’t want to. Again, this is all up to you.” 

 

Key seemed to consider this for a moment and nodded. He had blindly trusted so many people before Dr. Jung, perhaps as a symptom of becoming an idol trainee at such a young age. He’d grown used to the idea that everything would magically be taken care of for him; that there would always be an easy, clear-cut road for him to walk along free of consequence or hardship. He had to learn, quickly, that not only was the real world vastly different from his idol life, that his nonchalant mentality had almost gotten him killed. He had tried hard to resist the urge of trusting anyone else so willingly after what happened with those fake cops but then he got to know Min Yoongi a bit better and now, frustratingly, Dr. Jung also seemed like someone he could trust. It was all very confusing. 

 

“Can I ask for some more honesty?” Key wanted to know. This concept of someone giving him unbiased opinions and information was also a new concept; a refreshing one that the people in his (former) posh circles hadn’t yet mastered. Everyone always lavished him in praise, no matter what he did. He wanted to hear something real for a change. 

 

“Of course,” Dr. Jung smiled kindly. 

 

“Will you tell me if you think I’m truly broken? Not just…because of what happened in the military but…from before? If I tell you everything…and I mean everything…will you honestly tell me if I can be human again?”

 

Dr. Jung continued to smile. “I can tell you right now, there is no such thing as a broken human being. Our lives and our bodies are just a series of moving parts. We’re constantly rearranging them both to figure out how to optimally survive. Sometimes we fall from great heights and it just takes a while for all our pieces to come back together. Every piece of you is right here, we just have to figure out how to rearrange them so you’re not in pain anymore.”

 

Key felt a lump thickening in his throat as Dr. Jung reassured him of his sanity. Then, inexplicably, Min Yoongi’s face cropped up in his mind; his slight shoulders and long pale neck bent over that frying pan in his grandmother’s kitchen. The image made him feel warm; so warm that he could feel some of those broken pieces of himself soldering back together. 

 

“I think I know where to start,” he smiled. 

 

 

**Yoongi**

 

It had been almost a week since Yoongi and Namjoon made amends on that swing set but in that time, there had been plenty of changes. As predicted, Mama Kim and Dr. Kim were not at all happy with Namjoon’s decision to quit med school for something as “frivolous and fool hearty as restoring an old café”. Namjoon had insisted that it was about so much more than that and Yoongi had jumped in to explain the significance of their plan and how it was related to Jiyun. Brining up the girl’s name seemed to only inflame Namjoon’s parents’ rage. Kyungmin even jumped in and begged her brother to reconsider. When Namjoon flat out refused to hear what they had to say, Dr. Kim nearly chucked his son through the front door with his bare hands.

 

Namjoon, however, had been prepared for his family to kick him out once he delivered the news and prepared a few of his things ahead of time, sneaking out boxes of his clothes and other personal belongings to Yoongi’s apartment when his parents weren’t home. So, when that fateful day came, and Namjoon declared his new life plans, all he had to do was grab his backpack and head out the door. Yoongi had moved his futon into Jia and Jiyun’s room and surrendered his master suite to Namjoon. It was the least he could do since, at one point, when Yoongi was a runaway from his own family, Namjoon had offered him his entire house and family as refuge. 

 

Yoongi had also been easing Jia into the idea of coming back to their own apartment instead of living at the Kims full time. 

 

“We still haven’t gone through Jiyunnie’s boxes,” Yoongi reminded her one day as he walked her back from school. “We can spend some time at home tonight instead of with Mama Kim and look at them together. Would you like that?”

 

Jia shook her head no. “I don’t even know what’s in those boxes,” she shrugged. 

 

“Jiyunnie’s old toys and clothes. Don’t you remember how much you used to fight over all the My Little Ponies she had?”

 

“I don’t care about that anymore.”

 

“How about her sparkly shirt? The one with all the bunnies on it. You always asked her if you could wear it.”

 

“It’s her stuff. Can’t we just leave it for her in case she wants it back?”

 

Yoongi felt that same old familiar clench in his chest. He was getting worn down by it. He didn’t know how many more times he could keep having this conversation with Jia. No matter how he put it or what he said or how much the both of them ended up crying, Jia just wouldn’t give up on the idea that Jiyun was coming back one day. 

 

He decided to switch gears. “Okay. Forget the boxes. Do you know what else is at our house that Mama Kim doesn’t have?”

 

“What?” Jia asked, devoid of happiness of any kind. 

 

“Kimchi fried rice” Yoongi flashed her a smile and waved her hand in the air in mock celebration. Mama Kim was quite possibly the only person in Korea who refused to cook with kimchi. 

 

She pulled away from him and folded her arms against her chest, refusing his hand when he held it back out to her. 

 

Yoongi took in a sigh and stopped their walk. Gripping either of her tiny shoulders loosely in his hands he knelt down to meet her eyes. “Jia. Please. I’m trying…” he bent his head and shook it lightly before starting over. “Can appa be honest with you about something?” 

 

Jia’s face was expressionless. Despite some of their lighter moments in the recent weeks, Jia’s bad days were getting more and more numerous. Yoongi would notice that they would have their talks, she would feel better for a while, then ultimately slide right back into her glum mood. He was getting increasingly desperate to reach her. 

 

“Uncle Namjoon and I are probably going to make Mama Kim really mad pretty soon and we might not be allowed at her house for a while. She won’t be mad at you, though, okay?”

 

“Why will she be mad?”

 

Yoongi thought about what he could say that she might understand when he realized that he was asking her, yet again, to make a change in her life due to his inept parenting. The guilt was sudden and overwhelming but he couldn’t avoid it. “Do you remember why Uncle Namjoon was going to school?”

 

“To be a doctor,” she said astutely. 

 

“That’s right,” Yoongi beamed with pride at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Appa kind of…helped Uncle Namjoon to quit school.”

 

“Not fair. I want to quit school too,” she huffed. 

 

Yoongi’s smile widened. “I know. But this is a little different. You know how angry I would be if you didn’t go to school, right?”

 

Jia nodded.

 

“Well Namjoon’s mom and dad are also going to be really upset. Since this is appa’s fault, they’re going to be mad at me too.”

 

“Why did you help him quit? Isn’t he supposed to be a doctor like the rest of the family? How can he be a doctor if he doesn’t graduate?” She asked with a calm reason he didn’t know she possessed. 

 

This was something else he had noticed about Jia. She had this uncanny ability to act far older than her age in some instances and far younger than her age in others. She alternated between the two at her discretion and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was his fault too. 

 

“Uncle Namjoon isn’t going to be a doctor anymore. He’s going to work with appa.”

 

“Really?” Her face suddenly lit up. “Where?”

 

“Halmi Kim’s Café. Do you remember that place?”

 

“Kind of,” she shrugged, looking a little less enthused. “Isn’t that where I almost died?”

 

Yoongi stood up and regripped her hand. “You didn’t almost die,” he would have been amused by her question if they were living another life. Now, even the mention of her anecdotal “near death” experience was something that struck fear into his heart. 

 

“Tell me the story one more time!” she begged him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

 

"Jia..."

 

"Pleassseeee? I'll come home with you to our apartment!"

 

“Alright, fine, but, only if promise” he held up his pinky finger to her, too tired to care if this was a moral agreement or not. 

 

Jia happily twister her tiny finger around his. 

 

Yoongi didn’t know it but that would be the night Namjoon knocked on his door, backpack slung over his shoulder, face drawn so far down it nearly touched the floor. He'd finally told his parents. 

 

“Come in,” Yoongi said gently taking Namjoon’s back pack and placing it on the couch. With his spatula still gripped in one hand, he reached out and pulled Namjoon into a hug with the other. He didn’t need to ask what happened. He could practically hear the argument in his own head. “You hungry?”

 

Namjoon shook his head no and placed a kiss on top of Jia’s head before joining her at the table. 

 

“Uncle Namjoon! I’m using the coloring book you bought me. Look!” Jia excitedly held up the picture she was working on. It was of a crab skittering along a beach.  
“That’s beautiful,” Namjoon gave her a tired smile. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood.”

 

“Daddy promised to tell me the story about how I almost died at Halmi Kim’s café,” she said proudly, digging in her art box for another crayon.

 

Namjoon’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he looked over at Yoongi who was innocently moving some rice around in the frying pan. 

 

“Why are we getting excited about stories like that?” Namjoon asked through gritted teeth.

 

“It was the only way I could get her to come back to the apartment instead of your place,” Yoongi sing-songed back through his own teeth.

 

“I still can’t believe the universe let you have children,” Namjoon continued.

 

“Better me than you,” Yoongi retorted in a made-up melody. 

 

“I’d be an awesome dad,” Namjoon sulked in his normal voice now. “Isn’t that right, Jia?”

 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, "probably not though because you snore really, really loud and you would definitely wake up a baby." 

 

Yoongi bit back a snort of laughter. And Namjoon pulled a face but ultimately smiled. 

 

Just then, there was another knock at the door. Yoongi turned from the pan to look quizzically at Namjoon, who looked just as confused and was subconsciously moving in front of Jia to protect her with his body. Turning the burner off and wiping his hands on his apron, Yoongi carefully approached the door and looked through the peephole. He let out a sigh of relief before opening the door.

 

Key stood awkwardly in the hall, his eyes flitting around behind him as if he half expected someone or something to jump out behind him. Yoongi had found the time to send Key a few text messages after his talk with Namjoon and in one of them he’d given his address and told him to stop by when he had the chance. 

 

“Is now a bad time?” Key asked shyly as he caught a glance of Jia and Namjoon over Yoongi’s shoulder. 

 

“Not at all,” Yoongi smiled. “We were just about to eat. Are you hungry?” 

 

“I am, actually,” Key admitted. He looked like he wanted to say more but thought better of it.

 

Yoongi felt a sense of excitement lift inside of him as he moved to let Key inside. “I’m glad you’re here. You can finally meet Namjoon…and this is my daughter, Jia.” He lead Key into the kitchen and motioned for him to have a seat.

 

Namjoon bristled but tried to remain outwardly polite by shaking Key’s hand. 

 

Jia, on the other hand, was utterly gob smacked. It looked as if she had stopped breathing all together. Her eyes were wider in her skull than either Yoongi or Namjoon could ever remember seeing them. 

 

“Look at that Yoongi, you didn’t have to bribe Jia to come here for dinner with your weird near-death story. You could have just told her a famous singer was coming over.”

 

Yoongi made a motion with his hand that suggested he would slap the shit out of Namjoon if he didn’t behave himself. Though, he had to admit, his own lack of interest in Key’s celebrity status had gotten him into some weird situations so far. 

 

Key looked both embarrassed and utterly confused by Namjoon’s sudden outburst. “Uhm…hi, Jia is it?” he turned to the little girl who had finally inhaled. 

 

Jia nodded.

 

Key stuck out a hand for her to shake. “Are you shawol?” he asked with a charming smile. 

 

Jia nodded, face now blooming red.

 

“Fighting!” He put up a clenched fist and she copied him but immediately dissolved into shy giggles and went to bury her face in Namjoon’s chest. 

 

Namjoon shielded her protectively, looking at Key with watered down disdain.

 

Key gave Namjoon a shy bow of his head and turned back toward Yoongi who was scooping the fired rice into four sperate bowls. 

 

“That smells really good,” Key offered. “Can I help you with anything?”

 

“Nope. It’s all ready,” Yoongi flashed them a smile and doled out the food to everyone before sitting down between Jia and Key. 

 

“So,” Namjoon sighed as he cleaned up Jia’s things and put her in her chair. “What brings you here, Key?” It seemed an innocent enough question but the way Namjoon said it sounded borderline hostile. 

 

Key nodded quietly and though Namjoon was the one that asked, he looked at Yoongi as he spoke. “I guess there’s no easy way to say this.”

 

Yoongi stopped what he was doing and looked up at Key, bracing himself for whatever news was coming next.

 

“The café burned down.”


	22. Apples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* This chapter talks about sexual assault and dives lightly into the narrative of some of the aftermath. If you're sensitive to this topic please read with caution or skip this chapter entirely.
> 
> Also, I changed my used name because the old one was kind of dumb and this is the user name that I use for my other social media accounts so, yeah. Don't know how much it matters but same author, different name.
> 
> Okay, enjoy! <3

**Dr. Hoseok Jung**

 

He waved goodbye to Key and watched after him until he disappeared down the long hallway and into the elevator. Even after he was gone, Dr. Jung lingered in the door way of his office, unsure what to do with the hour he had until his next patient arrived. It was a narrow space of time but it would tick by slowly in a place like Daegu.

 

Before assuming his post as head Psychiatrist at the city’s biggest hospital, Dr. Jung had never set foot in this part of the country. He still wasn’t completely sure of the events that lead up to his employment at the hospital but it had been an urgent sort of recruitment and since he was the newest hire at the hospital back in Seoul, his boss had nominated him for the position. He was young, barely out of med school, and had no weight to throw around to get himself out of the transfer. The move had not been easy. 

 

He spent all of his time bouncing back and forth between his efficiency apartment on the other end of town and his office the latter of which, as far as he knew, belonged to a convicted criminal. His first day on the job had consisted of intercepting what appeared to be a fake police investigation involving a well-known celebrity. He couldn’t be sure but he suspected that since that fake interrogation had happened in his very office, his predecessor, Dr. Choi, probably had something to do with it. To what extent, Dr. Jung didn’t know, but it was obviously enough to land the former doctor in jail. 

 

Shady circumstance of his job aside, Dr. Jung found his new life hard for other reasons. He was exceedingly lonely as all his friends and family were still in Seoul. They’d promised to write to him and call him and come down for visits but just a few months into his time in Daegu, most of his friends had dropped off the radar and the only one who called him regularly was his mother, seemingly, to ask the same singular question:  
Have you eaten today?

 

He thought he might very well go crazy in Daegu until a few months after his arrival, the hospital hired a new doctor; a physical therapist Kim Taehyung. He was around Dr. Jung’s age, also new to Daegu, and ridiculously good looking. Not that Dr. Jung needed his friends to be attractive, but it certainly didn’t hurt. After his orientation, the pair barely saw each other except in passing at the cafeteria. Dr. Jung’s one window of opportunity for friendship lived and breathed with Kim Taehyung. If he didn’t recruit him now, he worried for his own mental health. 

 

Lazily wondering if Taehyung might be in the cafeteria, Dr. Jung left his office and made his way there. Luckily enough the very first person he saw was Taehyung, sitting alone by the giant bay window, trying to figure out how to accommodate the biggest possible bite of sandwich into his mouth.

 

“Hello!” Dr. Jung called out in his sunny voice. He scarped the plastic chair out from under the table and sat opposite of him with a big smile. 

 

Taehyung jumped, clearly startled and a bit embarrassed at being caught at such an awkward moment but without losing his stride continued to shove the sandwich into his mouth until his cheeks were round and puffy. 

 

“Hi!” He called back through a mouth full of bread and such. He smized at Dr. Jung to show he was happy to have the company. 

 

“How’s your day been?” Dr. Jung started in a way where he hoped he didn’t sound as desperate for human connection as he felt.

 

Taehyung, mouth still overstuffed, nodded his head enthusiastically up and down and forced himself to swallow enough food to speak. “Good! I worked with the famous client again this morning.” All the doctors had been instructed not to speak openly about working with Key so when Taehyung said “that famous client” he looked around to make sure no one was listening in, despite the fact that he and Dr. Jung were literally the only two people in the café. 

 

“Ah, same here. We just finished our session.”

 

“He’s really cool!” Taehyung beamed after taking a swig of water. “My family still doesn’t believe me when I tell them he’s my patient. They think I’m weaving tall tales to make my life here in Daegu sound more interesting. But I don’t need to do that. I like it here.”

 

“Really?” Dr. Jung questioned, the sunny smile on his own face faltering a bit.

 

Taehyung smiled so widely his eyes closed and he gave a hearty nod. “I grew up not too far from here. It feels like I’m finally home after spending so much time going to school in Seoul.”

 

“The air here is cleaner,” Dr. Jung offered, unable to relate. 

 

“That’s not all!” Taehyung assured him. He suddenly turned to reach into his backpack for something. He brought out a small white bag and handed it to Dr. Jung. “Take them! A farmer gave them to me on my way to work this morning.” 

 

Dr. Jung looked inside the bag and found two beautiful round apples nearly glistening up at him. He smiled, genuinely, at Taehyung. “Thank you.” 

 

“No problem! Everyone should get the chance to eat a famous Daegu apple at least once in their life! This place is also famous for melons. If you’re feeling lonely about living here, just give those a taste and you will start to love Daegu. I promise.”

 

Dr. Jung was swayed by Taehyung’s childlike confidence in what he was saying and decided it couldn’t hurt. “Really, thank you for these. I’ll have to treat you to the melons when they’re in season.”

 

Taehyung, who was already done devouring his second mammoth bite of food, waved his hand in genial protest. “It’s more fun to go looking for the perfect melon with friends. My whole family are farmers. I’ll show you how to pick the best one when the weather gets warmer.”

 

Dr. Jung let reassurance of that far away plan provide him some comfort. It was easy talking with Taehyung; almost too easy. By the time he looked at his watch again it was already time to see his next patient. He thanked Taehyung again for the apples and they promised to meet again the next day for lunch at the same place. 

 

 

He made it back to his office just in time to look busy when his patient knocked on the door and let herself in. She wasn’t terribly tall but she was very thin with a delicate face and beautifully white skin. She wore her hair short and dark, tucked nearly behind her pierced ears. Her makeup was natural looking but a bit dramatic and dark around the eyes, making her look far more dangerous than she actually was.

 

Her name was Min Sunhee.

 

She was divorcee in her mid-twenties with a fairly complicated and traumatic family situation. Though she currently lived with her fiance Kim Seokjin in a nicer part of town, when she came to this part of Daegu for her sessions at the hospital it brought back a lifetime of childhood traumas she knew she would never be able to transcend no matter how much material wealth she accumulated. 

 

Dr. Jung gave her a warm smile and motioned for her to take a seat on the couch. 

 

“It’s nice to see you again Min Sunhee-sshi. How have you been?”

 

Sunhee looked down at her hands in her lap and tried to decide what she should say first; how honest she should be. The truth was, on her way up to Dr. Jung’s office, an older man, whom she did not know, had berated her on the street. He’d called her a slut and an evil woman. This was only her third session with Dr. Jung and she hadn’t been planning on being too candid with him just yet but the encounter had left her feeling rattled and vulnerable.

 

“Dr. Jung, there’s so many things I need to talk to you about, especially before I get married. I want a clean start. I don’t want to be this person anymore.”

 

Dr. Jung nodded empathetically and made a few notes. “Did something specific happen that caused you to come to this realization?”

 

Sunhee explained about the man outside. “Truthfully, I’ve been hearing things like that shouted at me since I was 15 years old and got pregnant with my first daughter, Jiyun. It was a huge scandal at the time but instead of living it down…I ended up making it worse.”

 

Dr. Jung had read Sunhee’s entire file, what was left of it, at least. Like Key’s file, a huge chunk of it was missing. He could only assume that Sunhee was also tangled up in Dr. Choi’s web somehow as well. 

 

“When I was 18, I got pregnant again. Everything would have been fine…or at least the same…if it weren’t for that stupid broken arm…” Sunhee’s voice got quiet and she seemed to be on the brink of tears. 

 

Dr. Jung waited for her to connect the dots for him.

 

“I broke my arm playing volleyball at the beach with some friends. The family I was living with at the time, they actually own this hospital. They took me right to Dr. Choi, they promised me he would take good care of me…better than anyone else could…” she paused and wiped the tears she couldn’t hold back off her cheeks.  
Dr. Jung handed her a box of tissues. 

 

She dabbed at her eyes and sniffled. “He assaulted me,” she admitted in one barely there breath. “Violently…over and over and over…” she shook her head and closed her eyes. 

 

Dr. Jung furrowed his brow. He still hadn’t quite mastered the poker face most doctors adopted, especially when suddenly hearing about the traumatic and graphic events of their patients. Luckily she didn’t look up at him and he was able to smooth out his expression to a less horrified one. 

 

“Even though I was young, I was already married at the time so, of course, my husband and I were also…intimate. When I found out I was pregnant I was so scared. I didn’t dare tell anyone what Dr. Choi did to me. I mean, his employers were my caregivers. If I said anything to them about what he’d done to me, I could have been kicked out of their house. My daughter, my husband, we would have been homeless. I knew I had to stay quiet…for them. I really thought I could but after I got pregnant…it became much harder…almost impossible. I stopped sleeping with my husband. I pulled away from him entirely.”

 

Sunhee wrung her hands together and sighed, looking around the room as if trying to find her next sentence painted on the wall somewhere. 

 

“I was still so in love with him. He was my best friend. It was unimaginably difficult to treat him as cruelly as I did but I persisted. I had to.” Her voice took on an angry bite.

 

“After the baby was born, I couldn’t be around her. I could never tell who she looked like. Sometimes, I would see Yoongi, other times I would see that…that monster. It was enough to drive me crazy so I just…abandoned her to him. I made him take care of her all by himself. For years, I treated him like complete garbage and I refused to look at my own child. Instead, I just focused everything on our older daughter. She was Min Yoongi’s child, without any doubt and because I couldn’t love the actual Min Yoongi anymore, I started to love Jiyun so much I thought my heart would explode. She was the only safe place I had.” 

 

Sunhee wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked out the window behind Dr. Jung. 

 

“Last year, Jiyun got sick. Really sick. At first, I was determined to stay by her side but Yoongi was vulnerable too. He begged me to be close with him again but I just…I couldn’t. He wasn’t even asking for anything sexual but he wanted intimacy with me…he needed it and again, I denied him. I know I broke his heart. I know I broke his spirit. The man I loved most in the world was suffering two-fold because of my secrets. Everything was such a mess. 

 

“My daughter; my safe place was dying, the baby was the product of the worst day of my life, and my first love; my husband was slowly bleeding to death trying to hold us all together. I felt, at that time, the best thing I could do…the only thing I could do…was leave. I was the one causing all the chaos. I was the one hiding all the secrets. I figured…if I left I could stop them from hurting and, best of all, I could spare myself the pain of losing Jiyun for good. It was selfish. I knew it then and I know it now.”

 

She took in a deep breath and straightened herself up in her chair. Her face was plain but bordered on an unconventional sort of beauty. She looked striking in that moment. 

 

“After Jiyun died, I couldn’t go to the funeral. The Kim’s, my adopted family, they begged me to come. They even offered me a large amount of money but, in the end, it was fear that stopped me…and pride. At that time I had convinced myself that I had washed my hands of my old family; that their problems no longer concerned me. If Jiyun was dead, I had no business with them anymore…I really thought that way.” She looked disgusted with herself. “But then…a few days later I saw Yoongi for the first time in months…he was so beautiful…so broken…I wanted to show him how sorry I was but I’d become so good at pushing him away that I treated him horribly. I ran away.” 

 

“Your fiancé was okay with you seeing him?” Dr. Jung asked.

 

Sunhee smiled a little to herself and fidgeted with the expensive ring on her finger. “I’m very good at keeping secrets,” she reminded him. 

 

“But you want to change now? You said it at the beginning of our session, you want to be a different person before you get married.”

 

She gave a curt nod. “I just don’t know if I can.”

 

“There’s always time for change,” Dr. Jung offered. 

 

“Is nine months long enough?” Sunhee wondered quietly, stretching her legs out in front of herself. 

 

Dr. Jung cocked his head in interest. 

 

“I’m pregnant,” she announced almost under her breath. “Yes, I want to be different for Seokjin but I also don’t want to be the same mother to this baby as I was for Jiyun…certainly not the mother I was for Jia.” She placed her hand protectively around her barely-there belly. “Being pregnant this time has reminded me so much of when I was pregnant with Jiyun all those years ago. Yoongi was so ridiculously excited even though we were terrified teenagers. He used to lay his head on my belly and talk to the baby. He made up silly songs for her. He was always rubbing and kissing and ticking my belly, trying to play with the baby before she was even fully formed. The first time she kicked, he burst into tears,” she mused, eyes far away now. “Seokjin does the same kind of silly stuff. He’s so happy.”

 

“And you’re not?” Dr. Jung asked delicately. 

 

Sunhee hesitated before giving her head a gentle shake no. “I would be…no I will be if I can tell Yoongi the truth about Jia.”

 

Dr. Jung nodded slowly, trying to understand.

 

“I wouldn’t let Yoongi touch me when I was pregnant with Jia which was another thing that completely broke his heart. He couldn’t understand why I was being so cold with him. He wanted to kiss her and tickle her and love on her just like he’d done with Jiyun but I always stopped him. Eventually, he gave up on the idea…or so I thought. Some mornings I’d wake up and he’d be laying with his head on my belly, quietly whispering things, lightly stroking my skin so he wouldn’t wake me up. Other times, I’d catch him randomly breaking out into a song when I walked into a room or starting up conversations with no one, tricky little things he could get away with to have a better relationship with the baby. Now that I’m pregnant again I finally realize how important it is for the father to know as much about his child as possible. I felt all my children, inside of me moving and kicking for nine months straight. I knew them, intimately, before they came into this world. Yoongi…and now Seokjin…they don’t get that experience. If I keep lying to Yoongi about who Jia might be…that may be the cruelest thing I have done to him yet.” 

 

Dr. Jung couldn’t hide his agreement. “Would it be out of the question to ask him to join us for a session at some point?” 

 

Sunhee seemed taken aback by the suggestion. “I think he’s pretty busy these days.”

 

“Too busy to make time for an hour that could change your family’s life for the better?”

 

“…or for the worse…”

 

“He needs to know, Sunhee. You have the right idea.”

 

“No. I can’t imagine cornering him like that here. It’s better if I do it on my own. Like I said, I think he’s pretty busy these days.”

 

“You said you haven’t seen him in a while. How do you know?”

 

Sunhee shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I just do, okay? Can we talk about something else now?” 

 

Dr. Jung blinked and opened his mouth to say something but decided better of it. “Of course we can.” He offered her a placid smile but told himself to make a note of Sunhee’s strange shift in behavior later. 

 

He strongly suspected there was more to her story with her ex-husband than she was willing to share. Though, to be fair, he couldn’t imagine anything more dramatic than revealing to an unsuspecting man that the child he’s been raising might not be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting another chapter this weekend so if this was not satisfying, hang tight :)


	23. Panic

Yoongi’s mouth fell open the moment Key’s words registered in his brain. He felt like he’d just taken a punch to the gut. Immediately, he tried to convince himself that he hadn’t heard Key correctly. 

 

Namjoon looked nervously over at Yoongi. He wanted to strangle Key for being so forward with such bombshell news. Didn’t he know, didn’t he care how fragile this topic was for Yoongi? He felt the blood rush so hot and so fast to his face he thought it might come seeping right out of his eyes. 

 

“You’re not serious…” Yoongi tried to smile through the shock. 

 

Key realized, perhaps just a bit too late how devastating this was. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. 

 

Yoongi found the answer in his silence. He blinked a few times, unable to speak, his mind slowly rolling away from him. 

 

Namjoon clenched his fists, ready to deck Key square in the face for upsetting Yoongi like this but he remembered Jia who was sitting anxiously at his side, her terrified eyes flitting from one man to another. 

“I’ll take Jia to eat in the living room. You two obviously have a lot to discuss.” Namjoon gently guided the little girl out of the kitchen, balancing both their bowls of rice in his free hand. 

 

Even after they were gone, Yoongi still couldn’t speak.

 

Eventually, Key was able say something. “Are you okay?”

 

Yoongi brought his eyes up to him. They were heavy with anguish, glossy with unshed tears. He pressed a small smile onto his lips and gave a weak nod. “I should be asking you the same.” 

 

“I’m fine. Physically, at least. I wasn’t there when it happened.” 

 

“Good,” Yoongi nodded. He sucked at his bottom lip and tried to calm himself down. “What…I mean…how did it happen?”

 

Key shook his head and ran a hand through his silky dark hair which had now grown down to his shirt collar. “At first, I thought it was more vandalism but after the fire department checked everything, it turns out it was an electrical issue. The café was built over 50 years ago, right after the war, and apparently my grandmother never saw the need to have it updated to current building codes. The knob and tube wiring was so outdated it’s a miracle the place didn’t burn down much sooner.”

 

“So that’s it? It’s just gone?” Yoongi asked, his voice pleading. 

 

“Well, no, not entirely. Structurally, the walls are still standing. The foundation was solid. The interior, however…” he sighed and shook his head. “There’s another problem as well.” 

 

Yoogi closed his eyes, bracing himself.

 

“The government has redrawn city limits since the cafe was built. Technically, one half of the café is in Buk County, and the second half is in Dong County. I’ve gotten calls from both city offices threatening to demolish what’s left if we don’t come up with a plan soon.”

 

“This is unbelievable.” Yoongi’s eyes couldn’t focus. He felt sick, genuinely sick. He hadn't been feeling great since Jiyun's funeral which was now almost three months ago, but his body had willed itself into self-preservation, absorbing each new wave of symptoms and weaving them into a comfortable shield between himself and reality. Feeling dizzy and achy and exhausted all of them time was normal now but this news...this sudden news...it had jarred him way too violently. His body couldn't absorb the shock.

 

Key eyed him with concern. Still so frail and thin looking, he watched as the blood drained away from Yoongi's cheeks. He wished, desperately, that he hadn't said anything at all but it wasn’t like he could keep it a secret. He needed Yoongi as his partner in that moment, and Namjoon, too, if he was willing. 

 

“I’m sorry for dropping this on you so suddenly,” Key assured him earnestly, he tried to make his voice as quiet and soothing as he could, growing more terrified by the second that Yoongi would wither away right in front of him. “I understand if you need time to reconsider some things or even completely back out of this whole idea. I mean we hardly even got started so…”

 

“No!” Yoongi was surprised by his own voice. “No,” he continued more reasonably. “It’s like I told you before. This isn’t about me. It’s about my daughter and Halmi Kim. I want to keep going, for them, no matter what happens. We can figure this out.” Even as he spoke, he could feel his lips going numb. His whole body was jumping around beneath a fine tremor. 

 

Key was grateful but still very doubtful that Yoongi really could keep pressing forward. “It’s going to take even more work now,” Key reminded him gently. “I don’t have a lot going on so I will take most of this on, but I’ll still need a lot of help from you…and Namjoon.” Key looked off into the other room where Namjoon had disappeared with Yoongi’s daughter. There was already some understandable tension between them. Key could only guess that it stemmed from his damaged reputation but still, he wondered if bringing him into the fold wasn’t a mistake. He was just now starting to consider Yoongi a friend, but he knew virtually nothing about Namjoon. Again, he was confused about who he could trust. Though, now, it wasn’t like he had the luxury to choose. Like it or not, Namjoon and Yoongi were the only people he had to reach out to. 

 

Yoongi fell silent and pushed some rice around his bowl, not even attempting to eat it. “I should get Jia ready for bed,” he sighed, forcing a dead smile onto his face.

 

Key watched as Yoongi brought his uneaten food over to the kitchen sink. He tried to be descrete but Key could see that Yoongi was using the ledge of the counter to support his weight. He was half way out of his chair to help him back to the table for some rest when Yoongi abruptly turned around, face strained with emotion. Key fell back, sheepishly. 

“Please, go ahead and eat. I’ll be back soon.” Yoongi's voice was like static pouring out of a broken speaker. He didn't wait for Key to respond. 

 

Key didn’t have much of an appetite himself. He wondered if he shouldn't go and help Yoongi; insist that he rest for a moment. But how could he? He was sure Namjoon was already poised to bite off his head if he even breathed the wrong way. So, after a few minutes of sitting in the kitchen awkwardly by himself with nothing to do, he absently shoveled a mouthful of rice into his mouth. As soon as the spoonful of food touched his tongue, he sunk back into his chair and let out a tiny moan of satisfaction. His whole mouth filled up with the gorgeous blend of flavors and the inside of his cheeks practically danced with delight as the just-right texture swirled around his mouth. When he swallowed, he felt an inexplicable sense of comfort wash over his entire body. Any uncertainty he’d grappled with until that moment immediately vanished. He needed Yoongi, there was no question.

 

 

Yoongi appeared in the doorway of the living room, looking deathly ill. Namjoon perked up right away and went to help him to the couch.

 

“Sit down,” he instructed him. 

 

“I’ve got to get Jia to bed,” Yoongi tried to push him away. “I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not!” Namjoon scolded him. “What did that maniac say to you? You look like you’re about to collapse.”

 

Yoongi looked over Namjoon’s shoulder at Jia and gave her a reassuring smile. He lowered his voice so only Namjoon could hear. “You’re scaring Jia. We’ll talk about it later.”

 

Namjoon gave Yoongi a long, hard stare but realized he couldn’t keep pressing the issue. He moved aside but continued to watch Yoongi carefully.

 

“C’mon Jia bug, let’s get you cleaned up for bed.” Yoongi held his arms open to her and she willingly climbed onto him. He held her against his chest for a moment, trying to regain some strength. 

 

Namjoon took their empty bowls into the kitchen to give Yoongi some privacy. He immediately noted Key, enthusiastically enjoying his dinner and mustered up all the maturity he could not to make a face at him. 

 

Key sobered up the minute he noticed Namjoon was in the room and gave him a small bow. He swallowed the food in his throat and wiped his mouth delicately. “I’m sorry our first meeting went like this,” he offered shyly. 

 

Namjoon didn’t turn around as he set to work washing the dishes. He was about to reach for Yoongi’s bowl when he noticed it was still full of food. His entire body flared with anger. He sighed through his nose and gripped either side of the counter. 

 

“Look, I don’t know how far your relationship goes with Yoongi. Some of what he’s told me still sounds like a freaking hallucination. Though, I guess I must be crazy too since I’m talking to you right now…” Namjoon turned around, face tinged red, arms folded tightly across his chest. “Yoongi is my best friend. No, he’s…it’s deeper than that. We’ve been protecting each other our whole lives but right now he’s more vulnerable than he’s ever been. I’m doing my best to help him but clearly I wasn’t efficient enough because, somehow, you’re here.”

 

Key opened his mouth to speak.

 

“No. Just listen,” Namjoon said forcefully. “He thinks he can handle this café thing and I want him to be right. More than anything I want him to be right. But the thing is…he doesn’t know what’s right or wrong at this point. He’s just looking for something to hold on to. If this is what he’s chosen, I can only support him but I swear to God if you do anything else to upset him and I mean _anything_ I will personally cut off your balls.”

 

Key nodded submissively. He wondered if there was something inherent about him that made other men feel the need to automatically threaten him with violence. 

 

“Can I say something?” Key asked politely.

 

Namjoon didn’t answer but Key took his silence as permission. “I would never do anything to intentionally hurt Yoongi. He saved my life. As far as I’m concerned his well-being is more important than my own.”

 

“If you really believe that,” Namjoon said, face full of emotional restraint, “then you won’t _ever_ drop news like this on his head again. If something is going wrong, from now on, you tell me first. Got it?”

 

Key nodded again, obediently. He couldn’t say it out loud but he was grateful to Namjoon for acting as the middle man. It was clear, to everyone, Yoongi wasn’t in any state to handle bad news. 

 

“Glad we have that settled,” Namjoon said curtly. He reached for Key’s bowl and turned around to rinse the dishes. He scooped Yoongi’s uneaten food into a lidded container, promising to he would force feed him later. Before he could even finish doing the dishes, however, both Namjoon and Key heard a high pitched scream coming from down the hall way.

 

“Appa!!!” 

 

Namjoon, as if by reflex, threw the dishes down into the sink and tore across the kitchen and down the hall. Jia was standing in her room, staring horrified at the floor. Namjoon followed her gaze and saw Yoongi passed out on the carpet by his feet.

 

“It’s okay, Jia” he assured her as he bent over Yoongi’s lifeless body and tried to rouse him. “Yoongi-ah! Wake up! C’mon!” The panic rose in his throat, practically choking him to death.

 

There was no response and Yoongi’s complexion seemed to grow paler by the second.

 

“What happened?” Key asked, breathless as he caught up behind Namjoon. 

 

“I don’t know, he collapsed or something…” Namjoon’s head was a terrible mess. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely use them to check for a pulse. 

 

“Here,” Key gently nudged his way over to Yoongi’s lifeless body and found his pulse with ease. “Dial 911, and take Jia out of the room. He needs as much air as possible.” Key quickly got to work, ripping Yoongi's shirt off his limp body. 

 

Namjoon obeyed and fumbled for his phone with shaking hands, somehow managing to dial for an ambulance. As soon as the phone was to his ear he scooped a hysterical Jia into his arms and left the room. It all happened so fast that once he was outside of the apartment building he wasn’t even sure what, if anything, had actually happened. Did he imagine the whole thing? Was he dreaming? 

 

Eventually, the screaming sirens and red lights brought him back to reality. All he could do was cradle Jia and helplessly watch as Yoongi was taken away. 

 

 

The hospital staff had instructed Namjoon, Key, and Jia to stay in the waiting room while they worked on Yoongi. His blood pressure had dropped dangerously low and they had to intubate him to regulate his breathing again. Beyond that, they knew nothing else. 

 

After some time had passed and Namjoon had settled into a plush blue chair with Jia sleeping soundly on his lap, he noticed that he had never been in this ward before. He’d never seen this waiting room. Had they gone to a hospital outside of Daegu? He slowly looked around the room and took in the slightly updated, almost posh looking décor, feeling increasingly confused.

 

“This is a private wing,” Key explained when he noticed Namjoon’s expression. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about it since your father owns this place.”

 

“I knew about it,” Namjoon huffed. “I’ve just never been allowed in here before. Did you arrange this?”

 

Key nodded.

 

“How?”

 

“When they loaded Yoongi into the ambulance, I gave them the code.”

 

“There’s a freaking code?!” 

 

Key gave him a small smile and nodded. “Even though this is Daegu, the staff that works here are the best.” He thought briefly of Dr. Choi but decided not to say anything about that situation. “This is my fault,” Key admitted. “I shouldn’t have told him about the fire. Getting him the best care possible is the least I can do.”

 

Namjoon wasn’t going to argue with Key on that point but, in the interest of being fair, he gave him a tiny shake of the head. “Well…you sure didn’t help anything but, if we’re being honest, Yoongi hasn’t been doing well for a while. I saw him getting worse every day and I didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s plenty of blame to go around.”

 

“He’s going to be okay, though…” Key said half consoling, half questioning. “I’ve seen this kind of thing a lot, people collapsing from stress or overwork. Sometimes it even happens right before a big concert and you just have to push through it.” 

 

Namjoon felt oddly comforted by this but would never admit to as much. He suddenly remembered how calm Key had been back at the apartment; how he somehow knew exactly what to do. He figured Key wasn’t lying. Namjoon, who had actual medical training, couldn’t even stay calm. He wanted to laugh at the irony. He found even more irony in the fact that Key, a celebrity, could afford better care for his friend than Namjoon, the hospital owner’s son. It seemed wholly unfair that Key should be the better man to handle this entire situation but rather than add this to the arsenal of reasons to hate Key, he decided to be thankful instead. 

 

Eventually, they were all allowed to go see Yoongi. The doctors explained to them that Yoongi was suffering from a nasty virus, most likely brought on by extreme stress. The doctor also informed them that Yoongi was incredibly malnourished and that he suspected it had to do with some psychological factors. He suggested that Yoongi be put under psych evaluation and told them that Dr. Jung would be by to see him in the morning. Yoongi would need to be in the hospital for at least a few days. 

 

Namjoon’s heart nearly plummeted to his knees as he received the news. How could he have let Yoongi get so sick? The guilt was unpalatable. 

 

When they walked into the room they could see that he was laying on his back, eyes closed, with either of his arms limply at his sides. A maze of wires poked in and out of his skin, and an oxygen mask was pressed snugly against his nose and mouth.

 

Jia hadn’t woken in Namjoon’s arms, which he was thankful for. Seeing Yoongi like this was definitely upset her. In a move that reminded him far too much of his hospital days with Jiyun, he laid Jia down gently on the couch by the giant bay window. Jia had often fallen asleep by the window in Jiyun’s room on those long nights when visiting hours just didn’t apply. Namjoon felt a twinge of deep sadness shutter through him as he settled her in and draped his sweatshirt over her tiny body to keep her warm. The window in Jiyun’s room had been obstructed mostly by the parking lot but this one overlooked the city. Namjoon let his eyes glide over the twinkling night lights for a moment a found a clean breath of air. 

 

When Namjoon turned his attention to Yoongi, he saw Key slowly back out of the room. “I’ll give you some privacy. It might be a bit embarrassing for him when he wakes up.” 

 

Namjoon, strangely, wanted to stop him. It felt nice to have someone else to rely on when Yoongi couldn’t be there and he was grateful that Key had used his privileges for so much good but he couldn’t say as much. He simply nodded and watched the door close behind him with a metallic click. 

 

Namjoon steadily collected Yoongi’s hand into his own and gently cleared his fringe away from his forehead. “I told you to rest, you stubborn idiot. Now look what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he clicked his tongue at no one and settled into a chair beside his bed. “I never thought I’d say this but it’s lucky you met Key. He set you up pretty nicely…probably saved your life too. You scared the shit out of me, Yoongi. I didn’t know what to do. If it had just been me there…” Namjoon shook his head and went back to stroking the hair away from Yoongi’s forehead. 

 

After a few minutes, Yoongi began to cough and groggily began trying to swat the oxygen mask off his face.

 

“Shhh, don’t do that,” Namjoon scolded him as he righted the equipment.

 

Yoongi’s eyes flew open. He seemed to be registering that he wasn’t somewhere familiar. In an instant, it was clear that he realized he was in a hospital room, hooked up to a machine, getting pumped full of oxygen and medication. He panicked. Now frantically tugging at the oxygen mask and the tubes in his arms, Namjoon had to exert his full strength to stop him.

 

“Yoongi! Stop!” He shouted frantically. 

 

“I don’t want to be here…I can’t be here…” Yoongi cried anxiously.

 

“You have to relax!” Namjoon urged him. “You’re not well.”

 

“I don’t want to be here…” Yoongi repeated, terror gripping his entire expression as he dug his fingers into Namjoon’s forearms, trying to free himself. 

 

“You have to lay down,” Namjoon protested. 

 

Yoongi coughed out a terrified scream and wielded the last shreds of his strength against Namjoon’s, trying to somehow break free. Fortunately, Yoongi’s was no match for Namjoon and though he had a death grip on his skin, Yoongi had no choice but to sink back into the pillows, defeated. 

 

Namjoon immediately encircled him in his arms and held him against his shoulder. “Breathe,” he cooed into his ear. “Deep breaths, c’mon. I know you’re scared. I know this is the last place you want to be but you have to endure it. We’re trying to get you better.”

 

Yoongi dissolved into sobs against Namjoon’s shoulder, his breathing so erratic he could hardly figure out where his next inhale was coming from. He hadn’t been in a hospital since Jiyun died. Often, hospital rooms just like this one were the backdrops of his nightmares. Some days, he lived in an endless loop of those final moments with Jiyun in her hospital room just before she slipped away from him. 

 

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Namjoon cooed into Yoongi’s hair as he continued to break down. 

 

“Why did you let them take me here?” Yoongi sobbed. He was holding onto Namjoon so tightly he thought his fingertips might snap off. “I can’t do this Namjoon…please…I want to leave.” 

 

Namjoon had no idea Yoongi would react to being at the hospital so violently but he knew it made sense. He knew there were things deep inside Yoongi’s heart and mind that he hadn’t shared with him yet. All he could do now was hold him.

 

“We can’t leave, Yoongi-ah,” Namjoon spoke to him as if he were a child. “You’re really sick. You need to be here for a few days.”

 

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut tightly, panic ripping through his entire body. “Please,” he choked into Namjoon’s shirt. He repeated the word until he ran out of breath. 

 

_Please, please, please…_

 

Namjoon had a sudden flash back to the night Jiyun died. He’d held Yoongi in his arms, just like this, as he’d pleaded with him, the universe, God, whoever would listen.

 

_Please, please, please…_

 

Namjoon forced the lump away from his throat and slowly rubbed circles into Yoongi’s back. Occasionally, he glanced over at Jia to make sure she was still sleeping.   
Eventually, Yoongi was too tired to hold himself up and became dead weight against his arms and shoulder. Namjoon propped him up and held him tightly, hoping that Yoongi could feel him; understand that he wasn’t alone. Yoongi continued to sob until he couldn’t physically exert any more effort. 

 

Without thinking, Namjoon swung his legs onto the bed and guided Yoongi down next to him so that they were laying side by side, Yoongi safely nuzzled into Namjoon’s chest. Tears still endlessly leaked from his eyes but Namjoon had righted the oxygen mask on his face once more and he was finally taking normal breaths.

 

“You’ve been holding that in for a long time,” Namjoon pointed out quietly. “I told you not to do that anymore, Yoon. Look how sick you’ve gotten.”

 

Yoongi closed his eyes and made himself into a tiny ball against Namjoon’s warmth. “I can’t always help it,” he hiccupped. He then took in a sharp inhale as if suddenly remembering something. “Jia! where is she?” He pushed himself up onto his hands, trying to look for her. 

 

“Shhhh, she’s by the window, sleeping. Don’t worry,” Namjoon guided Yoongi back down onto the pillows and continued to rub his back. 

 

Yoongi shuddered slightly and closed his eyes again. Feeling calmer now, he suddenly thought about the café, one of the few glimmering strands of hope he had left in this darkness he was drowning in, how it was gone. How he had no idea what to do next. He reached for Namjoon’s hand and laced his fingers with his, seeking strength from him.

 

“I thought I knew what I was doing when I found that picture. I thought going back to that place and that time would make this reality hurt less,” he sniffled. “Everything was so clear in that moment, but now I don’t know at all. I’m so tired, Joon” Yoongi mumbled into Namjoon’s chest. 

 

Namjoon gladly slid his fingers into Yoongi’s and pulled him closer. He knew what Yoongi meant. He was tired in his bones; tired in his soul. He never said as much but Namjoon could see it in Yoongi’s eyes, he wanted to give up.

 

“Just rest,” Namjoon whispered back. “Just close your eyes and let it all go.” 

 

Yoongi sniffled quietly as more tears slid down his cheeks and he hiccupped with noiseless sobs.

 

“I heard you say it yourself, we’ll figure this out, okay?” Namjoon hummed into his ear. “Stop thinking you have to do everything by yourself. Key and I will take care of the café. Can you trust us?”

 

Yoongi reached up and wiped his eyes with the side of his hand and managed a small nod.

 

“Just breathe,” Namjoon remined him one final time. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise.” He squeezed Yoongi’s hand and snuggled him closer. 

 

After a few minutes, Yoongi was fast asleep, tangled in Namjoon’s warmth.

 

 

Once he was sure Yoongi was really asleep, Namjoon collected Jia and left the room to meet back up with Key. He found the star flipping through some pictures on his phone. In the brief glance he was able to snag, he saw that he pictures were of the damage the fire had done. When Key saw Namjoon he snapped his phone off and sunk it into his pocket. 

 

“Can I see the pictures?” Namjoon asked brazenly. He was beyond exhausted and in no mood to be civil toward the person causing Yoongi so much pain and stress.

 

Key hesitated before shaking his head no.

 

“Why not?” Namjoon demanded. “We’ve been talking about this business partnership for a while now. How am I supposed to help when I don’t know what we’re dealing with?”

 

Key sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I…I don’t have a good answer.”

 

“Then give me a shitty answer and let me see the pictures.”

 

“I lied, okay?” Key blurted out. “I lied about the fire.”

 

Namjoon’s eyes ballooned to the size of basketballs in his skull. “You are so lucky I have a sleeping child in my arms right now…” he gritted his teeth. “Now you’re telling me there was no fire at all?! After you made Yoongi collapse?!” He had blown passed civility and straight to rage. 

 

“No…listen…there was a fire. The café is completely…” Key trailed off, still in shock over the whole situation. “I lied to Yoongi about how it happened. I said it was a wiring issue but that’s not the real story. I was worried he would take the news harder if he knew the truth. I guess I just underestimated how weak he was to hear the news at all.”

 

“I’m going to give you about five seconds to hop off my last fucking nerve and start talking,” Namjoon shut his eyes as if willing calmness back into his body.

 

“Do you know a woman by the name of Sunhee?” Key blurted out almost faster than his tongue would allow him.

 

Namjoon’s eyes flew open. “What does she have to do with this?”

 

Key shook his head bitterly, as if he were hoping against hope that Namjoon and Yoongi really didn’t have any connection to her. 

 

“What does she have to do with this!?” Namjoon asked, nearly shouting this time. 

 

“Everything!” Key nearly shouted back. “Damn near everything.”


	24. Run

With Yoongi in the hospital and his parents still refusing to talk to him (even moreso now that Yoongi was clearly not doing well and thus their doubts about the two of them being able to live on their own were now confirmed), Namjoon found himself in a strange and terrifying landscape of loneliness. For the first time in his life he truly had no one to lean on or guide him to his next step. In addition to this, he was now solely responsible for Jia. 

 

Namjoon had tried to take her to visit Yoongi the day after he collapsed, thinking it would allay some of her fears, but it ended up in total disaster. Yoongi had grown more frail since arriving to the private ward. The virus he was battling had made him physically ill and he spent the majority of their time together getting sick in the bathroom. Namjoon made the quick decision to keep Jia away from the germs and her ailing father for as long as necessary. Jia cried all the way back to the apartment and knocked herself out before he could finish making dinner. That night, he scraped the half-burnt mess that was his attempt at a meal, into the garbage and ordered pizza. When the whole box was gone, he drank beer until he felt sleepy and warm. 

 

As he snuggled into the couch cushions, an overwhelming sense of shame poured down over him. Not only for stress eating an entire pizza to himself, but for not being able to keep everyone together. His best friend was retching his guts out in the hospital, Jia was more withdrawn than ever, Key had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth without explain, at all, what Sunhee had to do with the fire, and he was up shit’s creek with his entire family for throwing his future away on it all. He’d never been more miserable.

 

No, that was a lie. The day Yoongi and Sunhee got married was worse than this. _Much worse._

 

Namjoon shuttered at the memory as it tried to become some wild beast trampling through his weak little head. He lightly punched one of the throw pillows and tried to reconnect with the warmth in his belly.

 

He was finally feeling the weight of sleep press in on him when there was a sudden, frantic knock at the door. He planned to ignore it until the door bell got involved. Whoever was outside was jabbing at it like a disoriented woodpecker. 

 

“Who’s there?” He called grumpily, glaring at the door, still refusing to get up.

 

The pounding only got louder. 

 

“ _Aish,_ whoever you are, it better be worth it…”

 

Namjoon walked to the door and checked the peephole. Standing outside the door, looking visibly terrified was Key. He pulled the door open and the smaller man practically tumbled into the apartment head first. 

 

Before Namjoon could ask what was going on, Key slammed the door shut behind him and fastened every single lock. He braced both his hands and is forehead against the door, his breathing so erratic Namjoon thought he might pass out. 

 

“Uhm…hi?” Namjoon called to him, more confused than ever. 

 

Key swallowed and sank to his knees. Head still leaned into the door, he didn’t, or rather _couldn’t_ say anything. 

 

Namjoon looked on with apprehension. “Do you need some water…or whiskey…or something?” 

 

Key shook his head and turned around, his back now against the door like he thought his skinny little body could act as a viable weight against it. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, trying to catch his breath.

 

“Hey…seriously…what’s up?” Namjoon asked, the tone of his voice now sober with concern. He didn’t know Key well at all but in this mixed up, lonely, ass backward life he’d created for himself, Key was probably the next best friend he had in his life. He decided it would be better if he started to act like it. 

 

After another minute or so, Key was able to speak. “They found me.”

 

“Who found you?” Namjoon demanded.

 

Key shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. Namjoon was stunned to see tears screening his eyes and a rather massive gash streaked red across his arm.

 

“Dude! You’re bleeding!”

 

Key glanced absently at his bloody arm and practically shrugged with apathy when he saw the damage. 

 

“Don’t move. I’m going to get you something to clean that up.”

 

“No!” Key shouted, breaking from his reverie. “No, please don’t leave me alone…”

 

Namjoon was starting feel genuinely frightened. What could have possibly happened to Key to put him such a frantic state? “Key, I’m just going into the kitchen…I’ll be right back.” He tilted his head toward the next room as if asking for permission.

 

Key buried his face in his arms, as if he couldn’t bear the idea of watching Namjoon leave the room.

 

Namjoon lingered for a second but ultimately left to go get the first aid kit Yoongi had socked away in the kitchen pantry. Mama Kim had bought it for him the moment Jiyun could start walking and, by the looks of it as Namjoon brought it down from the top shelf, it had hardly been used at all. That was Yoongi’s parenting style up until Jiyun actually got sick: rub some dirt in it and move on. 

 

Namjoon brought the kit back to Key and quickly got to work sponging up the blood with some alcohol pads. 

 

“Who did this to you?” Namjoon asked, trying to keep his voice calm and low. 

 

“ _Fuck_.” Key made a fist and clenched it on top of his knee. The alcohol burned as it settled into the wound. 

 

“Calm down. You don’t have to tell me anything right now,” Namjoon assured him as he balled up the alcohol pads and moved on to finding some gauze. The wound wasn’t deep so he wouldn’t need stitches or anything. By the looks of it, the wound had been caused by something dull, perhaps something not typically meant to be a weapon. “ Just tell me…are you in danger? Are _we_ in danger?” Namjoon motioned down the hall to Jia’s room.

 

Key shook his head no. “Not for now but I…I can’t promise anything.” He sucked in some air through his teeth as he tried to breathe through the stinging sensation in his arm. He continued, “If I pay for it, how quickly do you think you and Jia could leave Daegu?”

 

“What?!” Namjoon’s entire face exploded with ire. “Are you crazy? You’re in some shit that’s so deep we have to go on the run? Uh-ah. Nope. Sorry. You’re going to have to go find some other people’s lives to ruin.” He wound the bandage just a bit too tight around Key’s arm before snapping off the excess with some scissors. 

 

“This is bigger than you know, Namjoon, just listen…” Key tried to loosen the gauze with his fingers. 

 

“No, you listen. Jia and I aren’t going anywhere. That kid has been through enough hell these last few months. I’m not taking part in uprooting her from the only place she’s ever known. Also, Mr. Money Bags, what about Yoongi? He’s still in the hospital, you know, in that private room you set him up in.” Namjoon wrapped up the soiled pads in the rubber gloves he was wearing and angrily threw the scissors and gauze back into the first aid kit, ready to storm out of the room.

 

“This is about Yoongi!” Key shouted. “This has everything to do with him.” 

 

Namjoon fell silent practically mid-sentence. “What?”

 

Key sighed and got to his feet. He started pacing around by the door, as if he were still ready for someone unpleasant to come through it at any moment; ready to fight if he needed to. 

 

“This is such a long story…” he breathed, looking down at his neatly bandaged arm. “But you need to know everything because this involves you too.”

 

Namjoon set the first aid kit on the couch and folded his arms, waiting for Key to speak.

 

“When I first met Yoongi…” Key started. “I…it felt like…” he paused, searching for the right way to phrase what he wanted to say. “Let me start over.” Key whetted his lips and brought his eyes up to meet Namjoon’s. “I’m gay.”

 

Namjoon blinked, completely nonplussed. This was not new information to him. He’d been keenly aware of this from the moment he met Key. Hearing him say it out loud was just a formality. 

 

Still, Key waited for a reaction. “That’s it? You just accept that?”

 

Namjoon nodded, feeling almost bored with the conversation. He’d expected something revelatory and was beginning to feel disappointed.

 

“Okay…” Key continued, clearly unsure how to feel. “I guess the part that’s going to piss you off then is…when I first met Yoongi it felt like…love at first sight.”

 

Namjoon clenched.

 

“I knew it! I knew that would piss you off!” Key accused him. 

 

“What…no…how did you..?”

 

Key managed a small smirk, though his eyes were still raging with terror. “It’s a gift,” Key shrugged. “You’re not the only one who ‘senses’ things.” 

 

Namjoon felt his face go red. He’d never felt more exposed or powerless. Key had only seen him and Yoongi together one time just a few days earlier. Either Namjoon was that obvious about his romantic interest in Yoongi or Key was that gifted. Either way, Namjoon didn’t like being outed.

 

“This story better have a point,” Namjoon grumbled. 

 

“Right…sorry…it does. As I said…it felt like love at first sight, but I’m not really the type of guy who believes in that crap so I knew it had to be something deeper. The more I saw Yoongi the stronger my feelings became. It really felt like I knew him from somewhere…from a long time ago.”

 

Namjoon nodded slowly, trying to follow. 

 

“Before the fire at the café, I moved all the old boxes over to my place. Again, call it what you will but I sensed something bad was going to happen. I mean, there’d already been so many break-ins and the vandalism was never ending. It just felt like it was all leading to something worse. Anyway, as I was going through one of the boxes, I found this old photo album of my baby pictures my grandmother had saved. Occasionally she sent some of them off to TV shows to embarrass me so there were a few that I was familiar with. But then I saw this one.” Key reached into his pocket and brought forth his wallet. From one of the slender pockets he produced a small photo of two toddler-aged boys sitting on a bench. 

 

Namjoon looked to Key for more clarification. 

 

“The one on the left, holding the teddy bear is me,” he explained, pointing to the chubby white blob. “The one on the right, is Yoongi.”

 

Namjoon’s eyes jetted over to the second toddler, whose eyes were half closed as if someone had just roused him from a great nap to take the grainy photo. Though the lazy expression on the baby’s face was nearly identical to the grown man version Yoongi often wore, Namjoon was dubious.

 

Upon seeing this, Key flipped the picture over and flicked his forefinger into the worn lettering scrawled across the back. 

 

_Kibummie and Yoongi-ah at Sindorim Café, 1995._

“That teddy bear I’m holding…my grandma made me give it to him right before he moved across town. I was 9 and he was 7. Both of us were way too old for teddy bears but we literally fought over it. I remember grabbing for it so hard that one of the button eyes snapped off into my hand. I was so prideful that, even though Yoongi won the bear, I held onto the button as if it were some kind of trophy. Later, he tried to apologize and give the bear back to me. I took it but only so I could sew the eye back on. Right before he got into the car the morning of his move, I chased him down and I gave him the bear back, with both eyes fully intact. He kind of frowned at it and then, right away, he ripped the eye back off and handed it to me. I can’t remember if he gave a reason why but I do remember he gave me that stupid little gummy smile of his as they drove off. It was the last time I saw him. My grandma must have remembered the whole thing because she taped the button to the back of the picture.” 

Key reached into his wallet again and produced the tiny black button that held all his pride. 

Namjoon’s mind immediately travelled back to the day he met Yoongi on that dusty old playground outside of their elementary school. Yoongi was clutching onto that bear so tightly and crying to sadly as the older boys kicked dirt in his face and called him names. Namjoon couldn’t remember if the bear had been missing an eye or not, but he did remember Yoongi’s love for that bear. He could never understand why he’d been carrying around such a babyish little toy…until now. That bear was more than just a toy…it was his last memory of friendship. 

Namjoon fell back slightly and nodded to himself. “So before I was his best friend...you were his best friend.” 

Key let out a burst of dry laughter. “I guess so.” 

“No wonder why he always defended you so much…” Namjoon pieced it together. “But how could you both forget that you were such good friends? I remember tons of stuff from when I was 7 years old. He even stayed close with your grandmother. How could have not known you were _his “Kibummie”_?” 

“That’s where things get dangerous…” Key said, his eyes suddenly shifty. “Right around the time Yoongi and his family left our end of town is when all those allegations against Dr. Choi came out. You should know all about that since your dad was basically the punching bag of Daegu for allowing him to stay employed at his hospital.” 

“Our family never talked about it,” Namjoon reasoned. “All that stuff happened when I was a little kid. There was no reason for them to bring it up in front of me.” “Still…you knew about it, right? You could feel that the people around you weren’t so nice or friendly toward your family anymore?” 

Namjoon blinked. Why had he walked up to Yoongi that day on the playground? Was it because he had also been alone and friendless? Was it because he also knew what it was like to have dirt kicked in his face? Namjoon struggled to cut through the din of 20 years of memories but he couldn’t. It was such a long time ago.  
“So what if my family got shit on for a few years? I never was affected by it. The hospital is fine now and Dr. Choi is still a great doctor." 

Key’s eyes nearly spiraled out of his skull. “Are you kidding me?!” 

"About what?" 

“Namjoon…seriously? Damn your parents really don’t tell you anything. Dr. Choi is in jail.” 

“What?!” 

“All that shit that you weren’t “effected” by back then…yeah…he’s still doing it now…or was. Yoongi’s older brother was one of his victims. That’s why his family moved away. The people on our side of town, my grandmother included, believed in Dr. Choi’s innocence. The fact that Yoongi’s family and my family had been best friends since the beginning of time didn’t sit right with the Min’s. My family were suddenly traitors as far as they were concerned and they didn’t want either of their sons to remember anything about their lives in Buk County. I can’t be sure but I heard they even took Yoongi and his brother to this psychiatrist that messed with their memories. Sounds like horseshit to me, personally but you said it yourself, he doesn’t seem to remember me at all.” 

Namjoon was sitting down now. How he had gotten back to the couch was a mystery but he couldn’t really feel his legs anymore. 

Key continued, “Actually, I think he does remember everything but we just met up again at a bad time. He has a lot going on right now. When he get’s back to normal I’m sure he’ll figure it out.” 

Namjoon opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again several times. 

“Okay so…you’re Yoongi’s OG best friend…I can learn to be okay with that…Dr. Choi is in jail because he actually was a pervert and my parents didn’t say a single thing about it to me even though he was supposed to be my mentor…that’s going to take some time to understand…but what does any of this have to do with you busting down the door and acting all…huffy?” 

Key’s eyes glazed over slightly and he looked, as if by reflex toward the door. “Dr. Choi may have hurt a lot of people but he took the biggest risk on me. He liked to get away with things for the thrill of it. When he saw an opportunity to pray on someone like me…someone with…fame and money…” Key made a disgusted face at those last two words, “he wanted to have fun. But guys like him…they don’t know their limits. He…he targeted me while I was in the military. He hired people to…attack me knowing full well that I would need to come home and be in a doctor’s care. Knowing that I would be vulnerable and unable to defend myself. Before he could do anything though…he just had to play games. He hired two more people to act as policemen and question me about the whole thing. He got off on hearing the details about how they…how they…” Key couldn’t say the words. 

Namjoon was only able to listen with half an ear. He still didn’t have the full context of what Key was saying but he knew what he was implying and it made him sick to his stomach. 

“Anyway…” Key heaved a sigh, “Your dad, thank to Yoongi, did the right thing and called Dr. Choi out for the fake investigation. As far as anyone knows, though, I’m the one who ratted him out. All the wrong people think it was me who sent him to that jail cell he’s in right now. They have no idea your dad or Yoongi had anything to do with it.” 

“What people?” 

“I don’t know where they all come from. I assume Dr. Choi must have been involved in some seedy shit only super rich people have access to…gangs…hit men…I don’t know but sending him to jail for this was the absolute worst thing that could have happened. I have people coming to my house night and fucking day, shouting death threats, sliding blood stained notes under my door, carving ugly words into my car…all the same shit I dealt with when those accusations of sexual assault first came out. It’s been these people…this gang…or whoever the entire time. They all work for Dr. Choi and they all want me to pay for what I did to him; for not letting him…have me…” 

“Holy shit…” Namjoon muttered. “You’re saying my dad has something to do with this? And Yoongi?” 

“Yes. Yoongi saw that I was in trouble. It’s a long story but basically, I gave him all the info I had about Choi on this notes app in his phone. Apparently, he showed it to your dad and your dad is the one who called the cops on Choi. Like it or not, we’re all involved now. The guy who did this to me stalked me all the way to Seoul and attacked me in a public fucking bathroom! It’s only a matter of time before they work out how everyone is involved and when that happens…there’s no telling what they’ll do. Do you see why we have to leave Daegu?” 

Namjoon felt his hands getting sweaty and jittery. He rubbed them nervously on his pant legs and stood up, trying to get the blood to circulate back up to his head. Then, suddenly, he remembered. 

“…what about Sunhee? What does she have to do with all of this?” 

Key shook his head. “That’s going to take a lot longer to explain and by the look of it you’re not ready to handle anymore shock right now. We’ve already got one man down and…like it or not…we need each other right now.” 

“What the hell do you think I’m going to be able to do in all of this?” Namjoon demanded. 

“Exactly what you’ve been doing. Keep Jia safe. That’s literally it.”

“What about Yoongi?” 

“Don’t get pissed off again, but I’ll need to take care of him.” 

Namjoon flared. “Why?” 

“Because you can’t protect Jia if you’re fussing over him. I’m serious about this Namjoon, she has to be your number one priority.” 

“She has been. She is,” Namjoon insisted, resentful that anyone would think otherwise. 

“Good. The other reason I’m staying with Yoongi is that I’m the one with the code to the room. Given the circumstances it’s better if it stays that way. It may seem like laying low at the hospital is the worst possible idea right now but hiding in plain sight is the best option. As soon as he’s strong enough, I will take him to meet you both.” 

“Meet us? Where the hell are we going?” 

“Japan.” 

“Japan---what?!” 

“I have really good connections in Japan from all business SHINee used to do there. These people know me. They know who I am, not just as an entertainer but as a human being. They will take excellent care of you and Jia. I’ve already offered your parents the same accommodations…they’ve agreed, your sister too.” 

“Am I asleep right now?” Namjoon wondered out loud, pinching at the skin on his arm. “This isn’t happening right? Key from SHINee is not trying to usher my entire family into a witness protection program in Japan because we’re being hunted down by the Korean mafia. That’s not a real thing. I’m ready to wake up now!” 

Key closed the gap between them and lightly walloped Namjoon on the back of the head. “Focus! This is really happening and I still need you, okay? The only way this works is if you get yourself together and do everything I say.” 

Namjoon suddenly and inappropriately thought about Key saying those words to him as his boss; how he would much rather be getting chewed out for a broken dish or spilled coffee in the middle of Sindorim Café than being coached on how to flee for his life. 


	25. The Drawing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m still learning how to craft a longer story in such a way that it doesn’t drag out or repeat itself too many times. Since not a ton of people are reading this, I really want to listen to the feedback I’m getting and if something feels off or uninspired with the story, I am 100% going to take that into consideration. I felt the last chapter was a bit rushed and didn’t really add to what was going on with the characters, but I posted it any way just to see how it felt. Ultimately, I decided to take it down. I know I can move this story along in a more interesting way, so I reworked some things and hopefully this chapter feels better and more readable :)

It was nearly 4 O’clock in the morning now and Key had made phone calls to as many of his Japanese contacts as he could. Namjoon was impressed by how many people answered or called back even at that late hour. Key wasn’t lying, his reputation in Korea may have suffered but his Japanese contacts were strong.  
After nearly three hours of calls, Key finally hung up the phone and leaned back on the couch, hands over his face. 

 

Namjoon noticed the bandage on his arm was stippled with blood from his wound. He retrieved the first aid kit and gently pulled Key’s arm toward him to fix it.  
“So what’s going on?” Namjoon asked. Key had spoken in Japanese the entire time he was on the phone and Namjoon could only catch bits and pieces of what had been said.

 

Key looked at Namjoon with slight alarm as he watched the younger man set to work on his injury for the second time. “Some one is willing to help but not until tomorrow afternoon.”

 

“We can trust this person?”

 

“Yes. I’ve known him for years. His name is Matsunami Kengo. He helped escort SHINee from Seoul to Tokyo countless times. The driver he works with is trustworthy too. I always suspected Matsunami was trained in Martial Arts or something, even when he was just our body guard at the airport. He’s a big man, you won’t be able to miss him.”

 

“We’re meeting him somewhere?” Namjoon asked, cutting the clean gauze and re-securing it to Key’s arm. 

 

“Yes, but that’s where I need your help. Jia is going to be freaked out enough as it is when she sees that you’re taking her to the airport without Yoongi. Everything up until the moment you get in Matsunami’s car has to be completely normal for her. Is there somewhere you can go together where she’ll be comfortable and not suspect anything?”

 

“The bookstore,” Namjoon answered immediately. “We go there almost every Saturday, sometimes after she’s done with school on the weekdays too.”

 

“Alright. Give me the address and I’ll Matsunami to meet you there.”

 

The instructions Key gave were simple. In the morning, as if it were a normal Saturday, Namjoon was to take Jia to her favorite bookstore. At approximately 11:43am, Namjoon was to take Jia toward the back of the store where a man with a purple tie would meet them. That man would be Matsunami.

 

“He needs something to confirm your identity as well,” Key pointed out. 

 

Namjoon thought about it for a long moment before he spotted the picture Jia had been coloring the night Yoongi collapsed. He hadn’t really given it a proper look until recently and when he retrieved it to show Key, a sad smile spread across his face. 

 

“When Yoongi’s older daughter, Jiyun, was still in the hospital, the two of them drew pictures for each other as a way to pass the time together…take their mind off the situation. Their theme was memories, they even made a floorplan of our old house to put the pictures in. It was a special thing for the two of them, but Jia always wanted to be a part of it. She drew so many pictures at school her teacher had to keep calling Yoongi in for conferences about it,” Namjoon paused and handed Key the paper so he could get a better look. 

 

“She drew this by herself?” Key marveled as he looked at the rather intricate drawing in his hands.

 

Namjoon nodded, proudly. “This one, as you can tell, is Jia cooking with Jiyun,” he pointed out who each of the figures was. Jiyun was holding the handle of a large pan, both of them wore chef’s hats and smiles. “She drew this over and over again, I guess she wanted to get the details just right.” 

 

Key looked at the pencil drawing, observed that even the cooking ingredients depicted in the picture had labels and each of the aprons on Jiyun and Jia’s drawings had their own distinct patterns. It was clear Jia had worked extremely hard on this.

 

“This morning, she told me she wanted to take it to show Yoongi but we didn’t get the chance. She really wants it to be part of the project Jiyun and Yoongi were working on. I don’t really know what’s going to happen once we leave here in a few hours or when we’ll be back. If this is the only thing we can ‘save’…I want to take it with us.”

 

Key felt himself smile and brought his eyes up to look carefully at Namjoon. “When Yoongi came to me with Jiyun’s drawing I was so skeptical. I mean…kids say some weird stuff and have pretty far fetched ideas about the future but, somehow, slowly, it all started to make sense. Cooking is clearly something that means a lot to your family and everyone was able to come together at Sindorim. These girls want so badly for their dad…for all of you…to have that place again. It reminds me of how much I want that too. Seeing these pictures has made me realize that there’s no way we can give up on the café, even though all of this is happening.”

 

Namjoon took the picture back into his hands and sighed. “Everyone who wants to be a part of this is coming from a broken family. Well, except for me, I guess. My family isn’t broken, they’re just pissed off. Still, nothing would make me happier than to see Yoongi and Jia smile again.” 

 

Key nodded silently.

 

“You look like you could use some support too. I mean, I don’t know you that well but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you stopped bringing all this drama around.” Namjoon ribbed Key playfully.

 

Key let out a small burst of dry laughter. 

 

“Anyway…if I show this to Matsunami, would that be good enough? Would he know he had the right people?”

 

“Yes. It’s perfect. I’ll tell him.”

 

 

**Key**

 

It was still too early for visiting hours at the hospital but Key couldn’t very well stay at Yoongi’s apartment either. He left Namjoon to get some rest before the bookstore operation got underway. He was still jittery about leaving the safety of Yoongi’s place but he knew he’d have to be brave, especially now. Perhaps, he thought, his bravery may even need to border on stupidity because, not knowing where else to go, he found himself standing where Sindorim Café should have been.  
Hands on his hips, Key glared at the yellow tape flapping around in the early morning breeze. He didn’t know when he would get the green light to have everything cleared away. The police were still investigating what happened. Now, the only thing left that gave any indication at all that the land was not simply a swollen patch of earth, was a pile of charred wood.

 

He ducked under the tape and lightly began sifting through the pieces, knowing full well and not caring one damn bit that he was messing with a crime scene. It didn’t take long, however, for him to find the hand painted metal sign that once hung on the front of the café. His grandparents had made it a tradition to retouch the letters every summer so they stayed bright and legible. Even after the flames had licked everything else into bland ash, the lettering on the sign remained vibrant. He pulled it out and tucked it under his arm before crossing back over the yellow tape. 

 

As he admired the rescued vestige, he recalled the smell of the fire. It had been more than mere smoke and ashes; more than that stringent scent of destruction. It had been vile; like the smell of human flesh disintegrating into the atmosphere. The café had been a living, breathing entity and that monster, Sunhee, had chocked the life right out of it. 

 

She wasn’t even ashamed or afraid to hide her identity. She wanted him to know she was the one who started the fire and who had sent her.

 

_Blue and red lights filled up the ash smeared sky. He ran as fast as his still damaged leg could carry him. A seemingly endless chorus of sirens screamed into air around him, deepening the ache of his pulse between his veins._

_“You can’t go in there!” A police officer warned him as he ducked under the yellow tape._

_“This is my property!” Key called over his shoulder as he drew closer to the smoldering ashes._

_“This is your property?” Another officer asked, stepping forward to block his path._

_“Yes! What the hell happened?”_

_The officer gave him a grim look and pulled him back across the tape line. “It’s very clear to us that this was arson. I see in some previous police reports that this is not the first time your property has been damaged. Do you know who might have done this?”_

_A list of angry faces popped up in Key’s mind. He shook his head no. Truthfully, it could have been anyone._

_The police officer sighed. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this but the structure is a total loss. After we finish our investigation, you’ll have to get someone to clear out the damage as soon as possible.”_

_Key was too shocked to feel much of anything else. He could only nod. He wondered what his family would do to him when they found out he’d let something of this magnitude happen. Then, more achingly, he thought about Yoongi._

_“Since this is now a criminal investigation, we’ll need you to go with us for some questioning. After that, it’s best if you stay clear of this area for a while. Please alert your family and friends as well.”_

_Key nodded numbly and let the officers guide him away._

_After his questioning, the police advised him to go somewhere safe, possibly far away from Daegu all together. He decided to head up to Seoul, back to the penthouse he still owned in the center of the city near Myeongdong._

_Clearly, that wasn’t far enough. Later that night, he got a call. It was from an unknown number but thinking it might be the police to give him an update, he answered any way._

_“Hello?”_

_“Kim Kibum-ah,” the voice belonged to a female._

_“Who is this?” confusion crisscrossed his face._

_A small laugh. “I’m sorry. It was terribly rude of me to address you so casually. It’s just…I’ve been following you around for so long it feels like we’re close friends now.”_

_“Who the fuck is this?!” Key demanded._

_Another laugh. “You’re so passionate. It’s no wonder Yoongi likes you.”_

_Key felt his heart skip a beat. “Yah! This isn’t funny! Whoever the hell you are---”_

_“Calm down, Kibum-ah. Everything is going to be okay. I know who started the fire. Isn’t that good news?!”_

_Key felt his head spin. He took a hard seat on the edge of his bed and looked frantically out of the windows in his room. He stood up again and shut all his blinds.  
“You’re cute,” The female’s voice. “It’s okay if closing the blinds makes you feel safer. It’s pretty scary what happened today.”_

_Key fell back onto his bed, heart racing. He looked frantically around his room for any indication of wires or cameras. Clearly, someone was watching him. He felt his phone buzz against his ear, indicating he’d just been sent something via text. Slowly, he took the phone away from his ear and with shaking fingers clicked on his inbox._

_Immediately, a picture of the café in full blaze popped up on to his screen. A smiling woman, holding up her hand in a “victory” pose stood in the foreground.  
“That’s me!” The female voice chirped happily on the other end. “I’m cute, right? Not that you’d be interested in someone like me…I lack a certain something, am I right?”_

_“Y-you did this?”_

_“Yep!” She sing-songed. “It’s a shame you weren’t there at the time. It would have been nice to meet you in person. Yoongi’s not your only fan, you know.”_

_“Why do you keep brining him up?” Key had a million questions but this was the only one who he could bring forth._

_“Let’s just say, he’s our common interest,” she giggled. “My name is Sunhee. Ask him about me some time. I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say. Anyway, I’ll be in touch. I happen to be friends with someone else you know, Dr. Choi. He’d really, really like to see you.”_

_Key opened his mouth to say more but the call disconnected. He stared blankly at the device in his hands until he felt it buzz again. He clicked on his message app again and saw another picture of the fire. He only had a moment to observe it before another message came in and bumped it out of view. Then, like a tsunami, a torrent of deafening buzzes came pouring through, vibrating the phone out of control. Countless pictures of fire eating through the café popped up one after another, spelling out the disaster in real time. The buzzing chaos erupting from his phone pinned him in place. For a long moment, he couldn’t look away but eventually the chaos reached a fever pitch and he could no longer stand it he forced the phone into shut down and flung it across the room._

_Hands gripping either side of his head, he did his best to find the pace of his breath again._

_Once he’d calmed down, he knew he needed a plan. Back when he was the only target in whatever this thing was that he had gotten roped into, it was okay. Now, however, Yoongi and possibly everyone he knew was also in danger. He knew he had to tell him, but how?_

_He decided he needed to lie._

_After finding the old baby picture of the two of them in that box, he felt, more than even himself, he wanted to protect Yoongi._

 

A sharp gust of wind blew up the side of his face and made his dark hair flap wildly over his eyes. The chill brought him back to reality and he slowly moved away from the ruins. A few days ago, when this whole mess was unfolding, lying to Yoongi seemed like the right thing to do to keep him safe. Now it wasn’t so simple. It was time to be honest with him. 

 

**Dr. Jung**

 

The first patient on his schedule was the new arrival, Min Yoongi. He knew from his sessions with Min Sunhee that he was the ex-husband in all her stories and he was, personally, very interested in meeting the man he’d heard so much about. Dr. Jung had also heard that Min Yoongi was in rough shape and, perhaps, may not be too keen on being open with him right away. Nevertheless, he was happy to have some potential flare in his day; a new puzzle to work out.

 

He bowed politely to the attending nurse at the front desk. The private ward Min Yoongi was staying in had a slightly different protocol than the rest of the hospital so he needed to make himself known before he could just head off to his patient’s room. 

 

“I know who you are,” the nurse batted her eyes at him, a small smile curled on her lips. “We’ve been expecting you all morning.”

 

“Y-you have?” Dr. Jung asked, his cheeks reddening as he noticed every single female nurse stop in their tracks to give him a good look.

 

The nurse nodded shyly and quickly pretended to busy herself with something else. Back in Seoul, Dr. Jung’s looks hadn’t gotten him too far. People complimented him on his nice cheek bones and said he had a beautiful smile from time to time but here in Daegu he was like an idol. Women were inexplicably drawn to him no matter where he went. He was flattered but couldn’t help but think of Taehyung. His was the only face he wanted to see smiling at him. 

 

Dr. Jung shook the thought from his head and gave the nurses one more polite bow before heading down to Yoongi’s room. He knocked on the door lightly with the back of his hand, leaning in to listen for a response. 

 

Nothing.

 

He knocked again. “Min Yoongi-sshi, my name is Dr. Jung. We have a session scheduled for this morning. May I come in?”

 

He waited again but still, nothing.

 

Dr. Jung thought that the man might be sleeping or, perhaps something might be wrong. Visions of his patient collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath or bleeding from his head suddenly filled up his mind. He decided to go in without waiting for a proper invitation. 

 

Dr. Jung braced himself for a gruesome scene but much to his surprise, he saw no one at all. Min Yoongi was not in his bed, nor was he bleeding profusely on the floor. He was nowhere at all.

 

“Min Yoongi-sshi?” Dr. Jung called as he carefully tip toed further into the room. He bent his head around the corner, confusion thrumming within him as loudly as his pulse. He wasn’t near the window well or under the bed. The only place left to check was the bathroom. Dr. Jung slowly made his way over toward the bathroom door and drew it back with nervous fingers. He tentatively looked inside, again bracing himself for something horrible. 

 

Nothing.

 

No sooner did he let out a sigh than did he feel a sharp thwack on the back of his head.

 

The world went black.

 

**Key**

 

Key checked the time on his phone. It was just before 10:00am and he wondered, anxiously, how Namjoon and Jia were getting along with the plan. There was no way for him to check on them until it was all over. All he could do was pray that it all came together. For now, he needed to go to Yoongi. Dr. Jung would just now be wrapping things up with Yoongi and It was finally visiting hours. Before Key could even return his phone to his pocket, however, it was lighting up. As he safely deposited the rescued sign into the back of his car, he read the number on the front. It was someone from the hospital. He pressed the green button on his phone to take the call. 

 

“Kibum-sshi! Thank God! You need to come to the hospital as quickly as possible!” The voice on the phone belonged to one of the nurses in the private ward but he couldn’t quite put a name to the voice. She sounded seriously panicked. 

 

“What happened? Is something wrong?” He ducked into the driver seat of his car and threw it into drive before she could even answer. 

 

“Yes! Min Yoongi is missing and so is Dr. Jung. They were supposed to have their session together this morning but now we can’t find either of them! Please come quickly!”

 

“Shit!” Key spat as he accelerated onto the main road. “I’m on my way now. Call me if anything happens.” Key tossed his cellphone into the cache and maneuvered his car around the slower moving traffic as fast as he could.

 

Just as he was pulling up to the hospital, his phone began to buzz again. Without looking at the number, he snatched it up and tried to answer the call but it wasn’t a call. It was text message. In his hurry, he’d already opened the file. He stared in horror at the bloody mess in front of him. 

 

It was hard to tell because of the lighting and the angle but the person in the photo certainly looked like Yoongi, eyes blackened and swollen shut, lacerations on his beautiful white skin, dripping angry red blood onto his hospital gown. Another text message came through, slightly knocking the photo out of his vision. It read:

_ <3 Sunhee _

 

“Fuck!” He jammed the call button. He didn’t know what he planned to do over the phone but he couldn’t just let her send something so vile without responding. It rang once then stopped. He jammed his finger again into the call button. One ring, then nothing. She was clearly playing games. Then, suddenly, another text message. 

 

_I’m very busy right now Kibummie. Yoongi is playing at my house today, sorry._

 

Anger and revulsion built within him to such a degree that he slammed his phone into the dashboard. A jagged crack splintered through the screen and, strangely, he felt more at ease. He slammed the phone again and again into the dashboard, not knowing what else to do. Piece by piece the messages and the horrible picture blurred out of sight as the glass fissured. But not before one last picture came through.

 

To Key’s horror he saw a snapshot of Jia’s picture, the one Namjoon had showed him just a few hours earlier. The one depicting the two girls as chefs. It was clearly her drawing, right down to the last detail on the aprons. 

 

Everything had gone to shit.


	26. Pancakes

**Namjoon**

 

 

Namjoon walked quietly into Jia’s room just as the sun was coming up and laid down next to her on the bed. He hugged her to his chest and closed his eyes as he rested his cheek on her back. 

 

Jia stirred in her sleep and when she realized Namjoon was behind her, she flopped onto her back and blinked into the brightness. Her white cheeks were puffy with sleep and her beautiful black hair fell messy across her furrowed brow. She puffed out her lips and stretched her tiny arms into the air. 

 

Namjoon smiled at her and gently tickled her belly. 

 

She dissolved into giggles and curled up into a ball before falling silent, still half way frozen in sleep.

 

Namjoon rubbed her back gently and pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Did you sleep well?” he asked her quietly. 

 

She gave a tiny nod. 

 

“Do you feel better?” Namjoon’s chest clenched at the memory of how sad she’d been the day before.

 

She gave another tiny nod and he relaxed. 

 

“It’s Saturday,” he reminded her. “Do you know what that means?”

 

Jia snapped up, the sleep suddenly gone from her body. She stared at him with wide eyes and an even wider grin. “Pancakes and bookstore!” she shouted happily.  
“Pancakes and bookstore!” Namjoon parroted as he lifted her into the air and spun her around. “What kind of pancakes do you want today?” he asked her as she climbed onto his back and laced her arms around his neck. 

 

“Ummmmmm…” she tilted her head in thought, pressing her index finger into her lip as if the answer to this question was vital to her very existence. “Chocolate chip!”

 

“Good choice!” Namjoon reached behind his shoulder to high five her before piggybacking the little girl out of the room. “Alright, train stops here. Go pick something for us to watch while I get breakfast started.” 

 

Jia hopped off Namjoon’s back and gave him a solute before running off to complete her mission.

 

As soon as she was out of the room Namjoon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in and braced himself against the kitchen counter. His legs felt like Jell-O beneath him. His lack of sleep was doing nothing to alleviate the intense anxiety roiling inside of him. He could hardly believe what he was about to do and he doubted himself. Surely, he wouldn’t be able to keep up appearances much longer. He would slip. He would crack. Jia would find out. The whole plan would go to shit. Someone could get hurt…or worse…

 

Namjoon pounded the heel of his hand into his head to snap himself out of it. The uneasiness in his gut was harder to push away and it took him a minute to feel well enough to even think about pancakes, let alone make them.

 

“Joonie!!” Jia called from the living room. “You like Barbie Princess Charm School, right?”

 

Namjoon allowed himself to laugh and he felt just a little bit less on edge. “Of course! Who doesn’t?!”

 

“You have good taste!” She called back. 

 

He smiled again, feeling just well enough now to get started on the pancakes. 

 

Once breakfast was over and Princess Barbie had safely conquered her dreams of living happily ever after Namjoon told Jia to go wash up. Her face and hair were smeared with syrup and chocolate. 

 

“Who taught you how to eat?” he teased her as he tried to wipe away some of the chocolate on her cheek.

 

“You did!” She reached up and picked a rogue piece of chocolate off his own cheek and showed it to him, accusatory. 

 

Namjoon laughed. Ironically, this morning was turning out to be a bit too normal. “I guess we really do need your dad to come back and take care of us, soon, huh?”  
Jia’s face took on a melancholic shadow but she nodded with a smile. “Yes. He does need to come home…but not until he stops puking,” she made “grossed out” face and hurried out of the room to get cleaned up.

 

While she was out of the room, Namjoon retrieved her drawing from the kitchen table. He gave it one final look, running his fingers over the careful etchings. He wanted so many things for the future he could hardly keep them all straight in his head. It both angered and terrified him how many obstacles stood in the way. With a determined sigh, he sunk the picture into his pocket. Once it was safely there, he realized, with slicing realization, that there really was no turning back now. 

 

 

Namjoon threw the car into park and helped Jia unbuckle her seatbelt. Like always, she skipped ahead of him in the parking lot. He almost reached out to grab her this time but stopped himself. If he did that, she would grow suspicious. He had to decide which was riskier. Though it pained him, he let her go on ahead, away from his side. He looked around, vigilantly, to make sure no one was following them. 

 

Once safely in the building, Namjoon relaxed, but only slightly. It was just a little after 9:30am and they were the first ones in the shop; far too visible and exposed for Namjoon’s liking. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching them. 

 

“Where to Ms. Jia?” Namjoon tried to keep his voice light. 

 

“The kid’s section, duh!” She raced ahead of him once more and took a hard left toward the brightly colored kids’ nook.

 

He followed her, spreading weary glances over his shoulder along the way. 

 

Jia came back with a book for him to read before he could even catch up to her. It had brightly colored pictures of dragons and fairies drawn along the glossy front cover. 

 

“My teacher read this one to us on Monday!” She shouted excitedly. “It’s my favorite book ever!”

 

Namjoon let a small, easy smile bloom. “Well we should definitely read it then. You can tell me your favorite parts.” 

 

She grabbed his hand and sat him down at a too small table where he struggled to balance his long body on a too small chair. Before he could feel too foolish, however, something caught his eye. 

 

A man, perhaps a few centimeters taller than himself, stepped into his periphery and presented himself as a dark, lanky shadow. There was nothing overtly wrong about him but the way he sidled up the rows with long, lumbering strides, set Namjoon on edge. 

 

Namjoon shook his head and turned his attention to the book Jia had selected. As per their usual agreement, she let Namjoon turn the pages after she was done reading. Though he tried to listen, the looming shadow of that man felt as if it were drawing closer. Namjoon did everything in his power to ignore it; to not look, partly out of fear. If this person was dangerous, what would he do? What _could_ he do? He told himself he was just being paranoid. 

 

“Namjoon!” Jia called, waving her hand in front of his face. “I’ve been turning all the pages! This is your last chance to do your job.” She made a silly angry face at him.  
“Oh, sorry,” he tried to smile as he dutifully turned the page. As he did so, the shadow slid out from view. He looked over his shoulder to confirm that there was, in fact, no one behind him. Whoever had been there, lurking around just moments before, was gone.

 

Namjoon felt his throat go dry as he cast nervous glances around the store.

 

Jia read out the last words in the book and clamped it shut. Before Namjoon could stop her, she was off like a shot, ready to find another book to devour. 

 

“Jia!” Namjoon’s head snapped back in her direction and he bolted after her through the winding aisles.

 

She wasn’t where he expected her to be when he finally caught up. She wasn’t on any of the saggy, neon furniture, nor was she digging through the toy box in the corner, nor was she climbing on the ladder trying to reach books on the upper shelf. She was simply…gone.

 

His heart stopped. 

 

“Jia!” He called. His pulse had thundered back into motion but he felt like he’d already left his body entirely. He’d been so concerned with looking everywhere but right in front of himself and now she was gone. He felt sick the longer he went without her response. “Jia!” he called again.

 

Rounding the last corner on anxious feet, he smacked right into a wall, or, what he thought was a wall. When he took a moment to right himself again and take a step back, he realized he had run directly into another human being that, for all intents and purposes, was shaped like a wall himself; a hard wall of muscle and height. He stood taller than Namjoon’s 181 centimeters and stood with his arms folded across his impossibly sculped chest. 

 

“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbled, hurriedly trying to go around the man. It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t moving anywhere. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the man had hooked his beefy hand into his left arm. Namjoon struggled to pull himself away, his whole body shaking now from fear. 

 

“You’re Namjoon?” The man asked. 

 

Namjoon could detect an accent weaving the simple inquiry together. Then, he noticed. The man was wearing a purple tie. Still trembling so badly that he could barely form a response, he reached into his pocket to pull out Jia’s picture. 

 

The man stopped him. 

 

“Leave it,” he ordered, keeping his gaze somewhere passed Namjoon’s head. “You’re being followed.” 

 

Namjoon tried to stuff the picture back into his pocket but the giant man yanked him toward the exit. With a thin, crackling echo, Namjoon felt the picture miss the safety of his pocket and land dryly on the floor. As if by instinct, he tried to wrench away from the larger man as if it were possible, but he felt himself being pulled back with a force so deadly he was surprised his arm didn’t shatter.

 

“I said, leave it,” the giant man growled. “Do you want to get yourself killed?” The question was rhetorical and in the hustle toward the exit, he wouldn’t have had time to answer anyway.

 

The large man, who Namjoon, at this point, knew was Matsunami, lead him down a narrow alleyway. As the cool, damp air hit his skin, he was able to come to his senses. 

 

“Where’s Jia?”

 

“Don’t worry. Just keep walking.”

 

Namjoon had half a mind to rip his arm away again and go looking for her himself but one violent tug from this hulking man had been more than enough to deter him. All he could do was slip and stumble his way through the dark alley way with Matsunami at the helm. 

 

Eventually, the alleyway broke off into a main road. Like a speeding bullet, a non-descript SUV pulled up along the curb and before it even stopped moving, Matsunami the Namjoon into the back seat and climbed in after him. 

 

As the confusion slowly drained away from his head, the sound of Jia’s frantic cries came tumbling into his ears. He looked around, without really seeing, until, finally, her face registered. She was sitting in the very back row of seats, behind him, face red tears shining brightly on her cheeks. Namjoon crawled unsteadily into the back seat with her and pulled her into his arms. 

 

“Shhhh,” he tried to soothe her as she melted into his chest. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m so sorry Jia. I’m so sorry….” He smoothed out her hair and planted kisses on the top of her head. He held her as tightly as he could without hurting her and buried his own face in her hair, trying to calm himself down. 

 

Matsunami waited for a moment before properly introducing himself. The driver, who was nothing more than the silhouette of a neck and jawline, did not receive an introduction but Matsunami assured Namjoon that he would deliver them safely to the airport in no time.

 

“This whole situation is actually very lucky,” Matsunami mused. He spoke casually, as if he regularly ushered people out of near-death experiences.

 

His voice set Namjoon on edge. He failed to see how anything about this situation was lucky. He’d been fully expecting to follow through with the plan Key had put into place, but the abruptness of how quickly it all went sour made him realize just how naïve he’d been. He’d been walking Jia and himself right into real danger and didn’t even know it. 

 

“You came to the bookstore a full hour before we were supposed to meet. The man who was following you clearly wasn’t counting on that. He seemed to be in quite the hurry to get to you. I tracked him for at least three blocks. He ran the entire time. If you’d come any later, we may not have gotten to you in time.”

 

So the man he’d seen _wasn’t_ a figment of his imagination. Someone was really after them. An uneasy sense of nausea spread through his body and he sunk himself lower into the seat, willing this experience to be over as quickly as possible. 

The nameless driver pulled up to the curb of the airport terminal and Matsunami punctuated a path for Namjoon and Jia with his massive body. Walking just a slightly bit ahead of them, he made an impenetrable wall with his hulking arms and chest. At some point, Matsunami had slid a rather heavy backpack onto Namjoon’s back.  
“It looks suspicious if you board a plane without any luggage. Everything you need is in this back pack. Documents, IDs, a new cellphone…” 

 

Namjoon stopped listening. It was all too overwhelming. He had no clue where they were being led but he hoped that they were at least a few steps a head of whoever was chasing them, especially because he didn’t know how fast he could run under the newly added weight on his back. 

 

As they drew closer to the security check point, Matsunami tapped on the back pack. “Your boarding passes and passports are in the front pocket. Take them out. Quickly.” 

 

Namjoon obeyed and pulled out the document with shaking hands. 

 

“We’re cutting it close,” he said curtly. “It’s not easy changing flights at the last minute but I was lucky to find you something. We’ll have to run to the gate to make it. Is she going to be okay?” Matsunami spared a glance toward Jia who looked utterly shell shocked. 

 

“I’ll carry her,” Namjoon promised, though he wasn’t sure if he had the strength.

 

Security went by in a blur and before he knew it, Namjoon had Matsunami’s voice in his ear again. “Get ready,” he advised him. “This is where it gets dangerous.”

 

Namjoon had the sickening sense that this was all very exciting for this strange, unreasonably large man but, somehow, trusted him with everything he had. What other choice was there?

 

Namjoon scooped Jia up into his arms and the three of them tore off through the airport without looking back. 

 

 

**Dr. Jung (Hoseok)**

The breath rushed back into his lungs like icy stormy waves crashing into a shoreline. The force of his own breath made him double over; cough and sputter. When his breath finally stopped feeling like ice cold water stinging at his lungs, he realized he was in a place he didn’t know. 

 

Eyes wide with confusion, his pounding head swiveled on his neck as he tried to take in his unfamiliar surroundings. He was in the living room of someone’s house, that much was obvious. The thick, white carpet under his back side was so plush it threatened to swallow him whole. In front of him, he could see a black baby grand piano, a few heavy wooden side tables with elegant vases on top, and a thick coffee table littered with architecture books. The walls were decorated with a few large and ornate oil paintings. His spine pressed into a set of black couch cushions. 

 

He realized, suddenly, that he wasn’t bound up in anyway. His entire body was free to move as he pleased. Stranger still, his white lab coat, smeared with blood, was hanging up neatly on a coat rack by the front door. He braced his left hand on one of the couch cushions, and tried to stand up but a sharp pain in the back of his head dragged him back to the floor. 

 

He reached up to feel what was paining him. His fingers immediately felt the warm, oozing blood draining from the back of his scalp. When he pulled his hand away in horror, a violent red color stared up at him from his palm. He felt sick. 

 

Where the fuck am I? What the fuck happened to me? 

 

Then, suddenly, his eyes fell onto a lump sprawled out on the couch. Wrapped in a bloody hospital gown that just barely covered his body, Hoseok immediately recognized the lifeless man.

 

“Min Yoongi-sshi?” He breathed. Shock drove Hoseok up to his knees, pain be damned, and he immediately started checking his would-be patient for vital signs.  
Yoongi had a pulse but it was weak and irregular, fluttering dimly against his fingertips.

 

Like Hoseok, Yoongi wasn’t tethered down but, given his current state, it hardly mattered. Thinking fast, Hoseok checked for any spinal injuries or obstructions in Yoongi’s airway. When he didn’t find anything, he got to work placing him in the recovery position, crisscrossing his body in all the right places to maximize blood flow. Next, he looked around the room for something to keep him warm. To his amazement, he spotted a knitted throw just a few paces away. 

 

Fighting through his blurred vision, he crawled on hands and knees to retrieve the blanket. Bloodied hand curled around the fibers of the blanket, he tugged but felt an unexpected resistance. 

 

“Are you feeling cold?” A female voice asked him. It was vaguely familiar. 

 

Hoseok snapped his gaze up at the owner of the voice. He felt the blood drain from his face as he recognized his patient, Min Sunhee. Hoseok untangled his fingers from the blanket and fell backward, woozier than ever. 

 

“Oh no, please, take it,” Sunhee wadded up the blanket and threw it into his lap. “My house is your house.” 

 

Despite the blood and terror that hung off him, Hoseok could have almost convinced himself that he was actually in that living room for a nice in-home visit. If Sunhee had any devious plans for him, or Yoongi, her face didn’t show it. 

 

He gave her a weary look and dragged the blanket back to Yoongi, not knowing what else to do. 

 

“To be honest, I’m glad you’re awake,” Sunhee continued. “Jongsoo won’t be back for a while and I really need a second opinion on the _galbitang_ I’m making. Usually Yoongi would help me with things like cooking but, as you can see, he’s not feeling very well at the moment. Would you mind giving me your opinion?”

 

Hoseok kept his eyes trained on Yoongi, gently rubbing his back and shoulders to get his blood flowing. He couldn’t very well let this woman force feed him anything she’d made on her own, yet, he was utterly terrified of the consequences of his refusal. It wasn’t like he could fight her. He could barely see two inches in front of his face. He knew he was losing blood rapidly. 

 

“Please?” Sunhee asked sweetly. “I’m making it especially for you and Yoongi. It’s been such a long time since Jongsoo and I had company.”

 

“Who the fuck is Jungsoo?” Hoseok finally asked. 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. You and my husband only worked at the hospital together for a short time. You must not have been properly introduced before he was…well, let go of. My husband is Choi Jongsoo, Dr. Choi, as you probably know him.”

 

Hoseok wasn’t surprised. He’d half imagined himself in a nightmare scenario like this; retribution for having played a role in such a powerful and corrupt man’s termination. What was more surprising to him was how long it took them to finally hold him hostage.

 

Hoseok felt himself smiling, slightly amused at the audacity of the situation. 

 

This immediately anger Sunhee. “I’m not sure you’re in any position to be laughing,” she spat. 

 

Then he felt it, another sharp thwack to the back of his head. He felt the warmth of his blood ooze down the back of his neck as he fell forward onto Yoongi’s lifeless body. 

 

Sunhee walked around to the other side of him so she could get a good look at his face. His eyes were fluttering open and shut, involuntarily, and the pain, which he could not fully process, settled over him like a blanket of needles. 

 

It was Sunhee’s turn to smile. “You’re looking rather fragile. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you get some nice, delicious soup in your system!” She patted his bleeding head and skipped back off to the kitchen. 

 

When she was gone, Hoseok heard Yoongi groan from underneath him. Hoseok forced his eyes open. He knew he couldn’t afford to pass out again, and leaned off of his fellow victim. 

 

Yoongi stirred beneath the blanket, his brow furrowed. Suddenly, his eyes flew open.

 

Deliriously, Hoseok tried to hold him in place. “Shhh, don’t move. I don't think you're seriously hurt but take it easy for a while.”

 

Yoongi tried to focus his eyes on Hoseok but they slid in and out of focus, the strands of his vision haywire under the power of his still raging fever and newly bloomed wounds. 

 

“It’s better if you keep pretending to be unconscious,” Hoseok warned him, his own vision stained with black spots. “I’m trying to think of a way to get us out of here.”

 

“Where are we?” Yoongi whispered. 

 

“I was hoping you might know,” Hoseok admitted. “Sunhee, your ex-wife is here.” 

 

“What?” Yoongi tired to sit up but Hoseok pulled him back down. 

 

“She’s in the kitchen. We can’t let her know you’re awake. She already smashed my head in. One of us has to get some strength or we’re both fucked.” Hoseok turned his head slightly to show Yoongi the damage. 

 

“Sunhee did that to you?” He gasped. “What the fuck is going on…?”

 

Before they could continue their conversation, both men looked up at the sudden noise coming from the front door. 

 

Both of them were frozen in fear for a moment before Hoseok snapped out of it. “Jesus fuck, lay down,” Hoseok forced Yoongi back down onto the couch. “Play dead.”

 

Yoongi obeyed before he could see who was coming through the door. 

 

Hoseok did his best to hang on to the last bits of his own consciousness but the next few moments nearly robbed him of his ability to do so. 

 

Standing in the door way was Dr. Choi, a smiling Taehyung at his side.


	27. Starfruit

**Key**

Key bounded up the black top parking lot and nearly hurdled himself through the doors of the hospital, heedless of what might happen by suddenly turning up in such a public place. 

 

Security guards stopped him almost as soon as he tried to make his way into the entrance. 

 

“This building is on lock down,” One of the guards informed him. “Where are you coming from just now?”

 

Great, another interrogation. 

 

“The two people missing from this hospital are my friends,” Key explained. “I may know what happened to them.”

 

The guards wearily took him into the building. One of them called for backup on the radio pinned to his chest. After a moment or two a handful of police men flooded into the entrance. The one at the helm, with impossibly broad shoulders, had a name tag bearing the name “Kim Seokjin”. Key recognized him immediately as the officer who had been working on the investigation with the fire at the café. 

 

“He says he knows something about the two missing men,” the guard informed him.

 

Seokjin barely needed to hear the end of the sentence. It was clear he was ready to listen to Key; perhaps he’d even been expecting him.

 

Seokjin motioned for Key to follow him. They walked back outside and straight into the back of a heavily armored surveillance vehicle.

 

Key took a moment to make out some of the images flitting across the wall of monitors in front of him. A few crackling static voices popped up in the background, sanctioned off by a series of clicks and beeps emanating from Seokjin’s walkie talkie. 

 

“We don’t have much time,” Seokjin muttered hurriedly. “I know she’s been contacting you. Show me your phone.” 

 

Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Key felt the vehicle moving. Flustered, punched in the password on his lock screen and handed over his damaged phone.

 

Seokjin scanned through the photos on the cracked screen.

 

“This woman has been harassing me for months. You saw what she did to my property. I’m positive she’s involved in this, too.”

 

“I know,” Seokjin informed him. “My team has been building this case against Min Sunhee for months.” Seokjin continued to look at Key’s phone, then, slowly, back up at him. “Or as you have her in your contacts… _Crazy Bitch._ ” 

 

“Oh, yeah, I never got around to changing her name in my phone…wasn’t exactly a priority.”

 

Seokjin expressed his frustration with his entire body as he reviewed the photos. He stopped scrolling and gripped the phone with a white knuckled fist. With pursed lips, he glared at the monitors behind Key’s head. The two men swayed slightly as the vehicle merged onto a main road. “What’s the significance of the last picture? The child’s drawing.”

 

Key felt a sickening lump form in the pit of his stomach as he explained his fears over Namjoon and Jia’s potential kidnappings. 

 

Seokjin deflated and he turned his incendiary eyes back to the pictures on Key’s phone. “Crazy Bitch,” he mumbled. “Min Sunhee is truly something else.” He handed the phone back to Key. "Don't worry. I have confirmation that Yoongi's daughter and Kim Namjoon made it safely on their flight. I don't know how she got this picture but it's clearly just another way for her to play her sick games."

Key sighed but didn't feel much relief. “You said you’ve been tracking her for months. What else do you know about her?”

 

Seokjin sighed. “We have a long history,” he mumbled. “Orignially, I was chasing Choi down. I’m the one who brought him down for inciting that fake investigation against you. Right after that happened, we had Choi where we wanted him, behind bars, ready for a court date. Then, he made bail and skipped out of town. I had practically the entire precinct hounding him down the minute we got wind of what he had done but we didn’t have any luck. He knows enough people; the right people…”

 

“What does that have to do with Min Sunhee?” Key demanded, impatient. 

 

Seokjin sighed. “Min Sunhee and Choi Jongsoo are married. They have been since Min Sunhee divorced her first husband. Just as the trail was running cold on Choi, Sunhee showed up in my office, claiming to be the sister of an old classmate of mine. She made up some lie about this classmate dying unexpectedly. I believed her and we…got close. It wasn’t until later that I realized she had lied to manipulate me. She wanted to get close to me to find out how our investigation on Choi going…to gauge how close we were to catching up to him…to stop me if I caught onto a new lead.”

 

Key understood where Seokjin was going with this. He’d obviously been roped into Sunhee’s web. 

 

“She had a way making me tell her things,” Seokjin admitted, a bit too candidly. “She had a way of making me do a lot of things I’m not proud of. Now, there’s a good chance she’s pregnant with my child.”

 

Key flinched at the rawness of this confession. He’d laid eyes on Seokjin three minutes earlier and he suddenly knew things about him that were absolutely none of his business. Still, he couldn’t help but feel an immediate closeness to him. They’d both been terrorized by the same evil woman in the most intimate of ways. 

 

Seokjin drew back slightly, suddenly aware of his candor. He tried to rephrase himself. “The only reason I am telling you this is because we need to trust each other. This is just as personal for me as it is for you. If we combine what we both know, we can finally stop this chaos.” 

 

Key knew it was his turn to share how he’d gotten roped into the whole mess, and quickly. 

 

“While I was in the military, Choi ordered some soldiers to…attack me. I was violated on every level; practically crippled. He knew if I was hurt badly enough, I would be allocated to his care. I thought he was helping me but, in reality, he had orchestrated that fake investigation simply to hear me rehash the whole ordeal in my own words. He got off on hearing what those men did to me. I guess he was having too much fun playing around because you guys derailed the investigation before he got his satisfaction. After the investigation, if he’d gotten a chance to finish it, I assume he was planning to have his way with me too,” Key shuttered. 

 

Seokjin reached out and put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. 

 

“…he never got his chance to have me…what’s more is he lost his job because of it, which meant he couldn’t keep abusing people the way he was used to. Maybe he’s bored….maybe he wants revenge…I don’t really know but ever since then, he’s been sending people after me…trying to hurt me again so he can get another chance to claim me as one of his trophies. I have more resources than he does. I’ve been able to get away. But my friends…the people I love and care about…they’re not so lucky and I can’t…no, I couldn’t protect them. That’s why Yoongi is missing. Choi knows he’s important to me…that I’ll go running to save him no matter what. It’s worse for Yoongi because Sunhee is also involved. Choi went after Yoongi to lure me in but now, I’m sure Sunhee is using him as her chew toy.”

 

Seokjin kept his hand on Key’s shoulder as he spoke in a silent show of support.

 

Key was surprised that he actually felt the touch very comforting. Still, he wanted to change the subject. “I assume they took Dr. Jung because he filled Choi’s old position at the hospital?”

 

“Exactly,” Seokjin took his hand off Key’s shoulder and stood up straight; evening out his incredibly broad shoulders. “Dr. Jung was also instrumental in helping my team expose what Dr. Choi was up to. Without his help, you might have been re-victimized by Choi for much longer.”

 

Key felt a silent sense of gratitude toward Dr. Jung but it wasn’t enough to comfort him. 

 

Seokjin’s face took on a more controlled expression. “Again, I’m only sharing this because we need to trust each other.”

 

Key nodded, looking at him eagerly. 

 

“When Sunhee and I were still…together…I started growing suspicious of her. She seemed overly interested in my work and she wasn’t exactly brilliant at hiding her added interest in Choi’s case. On top of this, she had a habit of disappearing for a day or two at a time, always claiming to be helping out her grieving family members over the loss of her sister. I started to have my suspicions about her but it was around this time that she told me she was pregnant. I started insisting that I help her to take care of her family. She was strangely opposed to the idea which made me even more weary of what she might be hiding. One day, when she said she was going to see her mother, I followed her.” Seokjin pulled out his own phone and opened some pictures. “She went into this house. Dr. Choi answered the door.”

 

Key looked at the grainy images. They depicted a woman entering a beautiful house in a part of town Key recognized. 

 

“Min Yoongi lives in this development!” Key shouted. “I walked him home one day. The houses in his neighborhood look exactly like this!”

 

“He wasn’t far from this place that night,” Seokjin informed Key. “A few hours after this photo was taken, I tracked Sunhee to a bar, Old Blue, where she met up with Min Yoongi. She left, looking upset, but she didn’t go back to the house where Choi was staying. Instead, she got in a car that remained parked on a side street behind the bar. I couldn’t work out what she was doing in that car until I saw Min Yoongi stumble out a while later. Yoongi got into a fight with some guys and then made his way across the street…to your café.” 

 

The pieces were starting to come together. Realization dawned on Key that Seokjin really had been watching everything for months and so had Sunhee. He couldn’t  
speak. 

 

“After she saw where he’d gone, the car began to move and through the window I could see her taking pictures. I assume her plans to draw you out and use Min Yoongi as a pawn began that night. The plan was already in motion before either of you knew what was going on.”

 

“Well that’s unsettling.”

 

“To say the least,” Seokjin agreed. “Her behavior that night was suspicious enough to direct mm team to quickly got to work wiretapping that house. We picked up conversations about when and how they were going to set that fire.”

 

“Wait! You knew they were going to burn down the café and you just let them do it?”

 

“We had no choice,” Seokjin explained. “Up until then, we had no proof that they intended to hurt you or your friends. Conspiracy is not a crime in Korea. We had to let them commit the act before we could bring them to justice.”

 

“That’s bullshit!” Key shouted. He very much wanted to sock Seokjin square in the face but he stopped himself. “Didn’t you think about how many people could get hurt?!”

 

“We did. That’s why we made sure that no one was there at the time,” Seokjin explained carefully. “That business call you got to come to Seoul, was organized by my team.”

 

Key deflated and sunk his head into his hands. This information was too overwhelming. They knew. The police _knew_ what was coming and still he’d lost everything. “How could you let this get so out of control?” Key mumbled, beside himself. 

 

“It may seem like the situation is out of control but trust me. We still have the advantage here,” Seokjin’s voice was calm and measured. “You’ve been under the care of Dr. Kim Taehyung?”

 

Key easily recalled the handsome but odd man who had been working to restore his leg. “Yes,” he answered slowly. “What does he have to do with any of this?”

 

“Apparently Dr. Kim has been friends with Choi since he arrived in Daegu a few months ago. He was one of the few members of the staff that supported him and paid him regular visits while he was in our custody. They had a number of conversations. Many of them surrounding Choi’s own health issues.”

 

“Could you find anything out from those conversations? Anything that could help us?”

 

Seokjin smiled, amused. “The main topic of their conversations always ended up being Choi’s kidney problems. Apparently, even though he’s a medical professional, he couldn’t prevent his own serious ailment. Taehyung comes from a farming family and often talked to Choi about some helpful foods to incorporate into his diet to help his kidney’s function better. That’s as salacious as their communication ever got.”

 

Key made a face. “Why would Dr. Kim go all the way to the jail just to talk to Choi about healthy food for his kidneys? That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“Dr. Kim is a strange man,” Seokjin mused. “I wondered the same thing when I listened to their recorded conversations, so I called him in for questioning. He immediately explained to me that he knew a way to seriously hurt or incapacitate Choi if he ever needed to. He said Choi was planning something big and it may come in handy.”

 

Key looked at Seokjin, confusion reigned across his face.

 

“As I’m sure he’s told you, Kim Taehyung’s family are farmers. He knows everything there is to know about food. What heals you _and_ what hurts you. His added medical knowledge only enhances his authority on the subject. Apparently, it’s common medical knowledge that people with kidney problems, like Choi, should not consume any quantity of Starfruit. It produces a certain chemical in the body that cannot be filtered through faulty kidneys. Eating even just one bite can send a man into full body paralysis, trigger a seizure, or even kill him.”

 

“Okay,” Key said, still not following.

 

“Taehyung knew Choi was someone dangerous right from the moment he met him. His plan, from day one, was to befriend Choi, build trust, give him advice, and form a real friendship with him. Keep your enemies closer was his motto. Part of keeping your enemies close is knowing how to fight them off if the time comes. After hearing his thoughts on Choi, we realized he could be a valuable person to get on our side.”

 

Key waited patiently for Seokjin to explain more.

 

“When Choi skipped town on bail money, we were hoping Taehyung would know where he went but Choi kept everything a secret, even from him. Then, just about a week ago, Taehyung got a call to join Choi for dinner…at that same house I tracked Sunhee to a few months ago. Apparently, Choi thinks hiding in plain sight is best. Still Taehyung didn’t really know what he was up to. All we could do was keep a close watch on you and your friends and implore Taehyung to get as much information as her could. We had no other way of knowing when or how Choi was going to make his next move.”

 

“But then the fire happened!” Key groaned. “Why wasn’t that enough for you to arrest them right then and there? You had the tapes of them conspiring and you had my burnt property as proof! You even knew where they were!”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Seokjin explained. “Choi is connected to a lot of people. If we rushed in and apprehended him or Sunhee for that fire, we would only have two of the players in a much larger game. We knew, if we kept letting them get away with their crimes, they’d eventually expose the network of criminals around them. If we waited, we could take down everyone in Choi’s web.” 

 

Key felt his stomach lurch as he realized what this meant. “…you knew they were going to kidnap Yoongi?” 

 

Seokjin’s face briefly folded into a delicate balance of resolution and guilt. He nodded. “There’s no way Choi himself could have gotten into that ward to abduct Yoongi or Dr. Jung. Our guys would have caught him. Hell, anyone would have caught him. The only way Choi could have gotten into that ward was if someone was working for him internally; someone we’d never suspect.”

 

“Like who?” Key wondered, partially to himself. 

 

“Yoongi’s adoptive father, Dr. Kim Sejun.” 

 

Key felt sicker than ever. He’d just helped Dr. Kim get on an airplane out of the country. He believed he’d been saving him but now Seokjin was suggesting that Dr. Kim was actually a catalyst in this whole mess? 

 

“I know that probably comes as a shock, considering everything you’ve done for him and his family,” Seokjin tried to sympathize. “Honestly, for now, it’s better that he’s out of the way. We can deal with him after we get this mess cleaned up.”

 

“Why would Kim Sejun want to let Choi hurt someone who was like a son to him?”

 

“We’re still not sure exactly. Just a few months ago Kim Sejun was helping me to put Choi in jail. I don’t know if you remember but he was there the day that we arrested those fake police officers. It would appear that he doesn’t care much what happens to Choi, perhaps his issues are more with Min Yoongi.”

 

Key tried to piece all this information together but was still coming up with blank spots; blotted out by his shock. Why did so many people want to hurt someone like Yoongi? “So let me get this straight, you knew Choi and Sunhee were planning to burn my property down to catch me and when that didn’t work, you knew they’d move onto something bigger so you let all of that happen just so they could expose all the bad guys, likes Dr, Kim Sejun, in Daegu?”

 

“Essentially, yes.”

 

“The government better be cutting me a fat fucking check for all this damage,” Key muttered bitterly. “I’m going to buy Yoongi and Namjoon and Jia their own private island away from people like you.”

 

“I’m on your side, Kibum-sshi,” Seokjin sighed. “I know it doesn’t seem like it but I am. We’re not going to let anything bad happen to Min Yoongi or Dr. Jung.”

 

“So what’s your plan then?” Key demanded. “If you’re so sure this is all going to work out.”

 

“That’s where you come in. It’s why I’m telling you all of this.”

 

Key braced himself, already positive he was going to hate what was coming next.

 

“What I’m asking you to do is going to be very uncomfortable,” Seokjin warned, “but we have to lure him to the very edge. You’re going to be the bait.”

 

Key felt something go haywire in his chest. Panic? Fear? Anger? He didn’t know.

 

Seokjin continued, “I didn’t think we would need to use Taehyung or his plan to secretly feed Choi the Starfruit but it seems that’s where we are at this point. We asked Taehyung to arrange a dinner with Choi and Sunhee. We asked him to volunteer to bring the dessert. Choi and Sunhee think they can trust Taehyung. They have no reason not to. They’ll eat whatever he brings. What they don’t know is that Taehyung cut up tiny, untraceable bits of Starfruit and mixed them into the dessert he brought.”

 

“You’re letting Taehyung intentionally poison a man?” Key sputtered.

 

“It’s self-defense.” 

 

“But Taehyung is their friend. He isn’t being threatened.”

 

“That’s why _he’s_ not the one whose going to serve it to him,” Seokjin gave Key a meaningful look, a look that implied Key’s role in all of this.

 

“What? Me? I’m going to serve it to him?” 

 

Seokjin shook his head. "If everything goes to plan...he'll serve it to himself. But that means you're going to have to go into that house. Tell me now if you think you can do that much. If you can't, I need to get to work on plan B."

 

How was Seokjin planning to get Choi to poison himself? Key only allowed himself to wonder for a moment before volunteering to help. "I'll go in," Key assured him, despite that panic and anxiety rising to a fever pitch inside of him. “I don’t care what he does to me. I’m not going to let him do anymore damage. I love Yoongi too much to…” Key stopped himself almost immediately when he realized he’d let that little four -letter word slip.

 _Love._

 

Seokjin paused, awkwardly as the car filled up with a tense silence. Neither of them quite knew how to move on from Key’s impromptu, and impassioned, confession.  
Key bit at his tongue, cursing himself for losing his composure. He felt beyond exposed.

 

“Look,” Seokjin’s voice began softly. “I understand how you feel but you can't go running in there however you want. We have to use you as leverage _my_ way. I know you want to save him but you will do more harm than good by playing the hero right now. You have to let me lead this. You have to let me do my job.” 

 

“This is crazy,” Key whimpered. He felt like he was being ripped in two. Could this man really be asking him to just use him as he pleased while Yoongi and other innocent people dangled over the literal pit of hell?

 

“It sounds ridiculous but that dessert is our best hope right now,” Seokjin explained.

 

The vehicle came to a halting stop. Key could see Yoongi’s neighborhood on one of the monitors. They had arrived.


	28. Waves

**Namjoon**

 

Namjoon’s body was rigid with anxiety for the entirety of the two-hour flight. He’d lost count of how many times he’d literally stopped breathing and only remembered to take breaths when his vision started going dark. 

 

Jia, in the window seat beside him, stared out at the white, fluffy clouds that hung peacefully in the boundless sky around them. It was almost time for them to touch down in Nagoya when Namjoon realized that Jia hadn’t utter a single word since their unexpected rescue from the bookstore.

 

“Jia?” He called to her softly. “Are you okay?”

 

Jia didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes trained out the window, the clouds gradually thickened as the plane made its initial descent. 

 

Namjoon felt the weight in his chest gathering mass. He was utterly exhausted from the inside out. He couldn’t imagine what this must be like for a little kid.   
He reached out to touch her hand. She didn’t react at all, almost as if she couldn’t even feel it. “Jia…we’re almost there. Just a bit more time and you can rest, okay?”  
No response. The clouds outside had turned a grey-green and silvery rain drops began pelting sideways crisscrosses on the window. The plane bumped and jumped through the turbulent air until it landed with a light bang on the run way and began taxying. A static voice welcomed them to Nagoya. Namjoon had never felt lonelier in his life. 

 

At the reception area, a small unassuming man with thinning white hair, dressed in a grey blazer, approached them immediately. 

 

“Welcome to Japan, my name is Nojiri Kazuhiko. Please follow me,” he said in Korean. 

 

Namjoon and Jia didn’t have much of a choice. The small man was already walking them briskly to the parking lot. Without another word, he ushered them into a shiny black car and slid into the driver’s seat.

 

“Please, make yourself comfortable. Shirakawa is a long way from here.”

 

“Shirakawa?” Namjoon asked.

 

Mr. Nojiri gave a small nod. “Yes. That’s where my family and I live. You will be staying with us for a few days. I hope that’s okay.”

 

“It’s more than okay,” Namjoon assured him. “Thank you so much for…”

 

Mr. Nojiri shook his head and gave a polite bow. “Kibummie is like a son to me. If he or his friends need anything at all, it’s my pleasure to help.”

 

Namjoon gave a small bow in return. He was more than curious about how Key had grown so close to Mr. Nojiri. Who was he? Why was his Korean so good? Where exactly was Shirakawa?...When would he see Yoongi again? Namjoon pulled Jia into his side and she nuzzled her face into his side. Within a few minutes, they were both sound asleep, surrounded by the sound of car tires slipping through the rain. 

 

Namjoon woke up just before Mr. Nojiri turned his car up a narrow, winding driveway. He took in a deep breath through his nose and stretched out, letting the light of the evening slowly filter in through his half-opened eye lids. He looked out the window to see that the drive way was surrounded by a thicket of lush, green trees and an impenetrable brick wall on either side. 

 

He turned his attention to Jia and gently shook her awake. She stirred slightly but didn’t fully wake up. The poor girl was exhausted. He decided to let her keep sleeping.

 

“My wife is getting dinner ready now,” Mr. Nojiri informed Namjoon when he saw his head pop up in the rearview mirror. “You and Jia can rest in the room we prepared for you. The rest of your family should be arriving shortly.”

 

Just then, the Norjiri house came into full view. 

 

From the outside, Namjoon could tell that it was luxurious, much bigger than any house he’d ever been inside of which was saying something considering his well-off upbringing. The architecture was modern, grey stone, and sharp angles. The landscaping around the front entrance was immaculate and bloomed with vibrant pink and white flowers. Namjoon wondered how such beautiful things could bloom in the frigid late-winter air.

 

Mr. Nojiri pulled the car into the garage and helped them out and into the house. The inside was even more remarkable. Namjoon had grown up in a nice house, spending time with fellow doctors and their families but the Nojiri house made his upbringing look like a pauper’s. Expensive art work hung on the walls, the furniture, from what Namjoon could see as he toed off his shoes, looked to be made of leather; pristine and stiff, as if no one had ever sat in it before. The floors were dark-washed wood and glittered under the chandelier lights. Though it was an exceedingly lavish space, there was a warmth to the interior that seemed to emanate from the very walls. A soft glowing light enveloped them almost immediately and the smells of comfort food wafted down the hallway, greeting him kindly. 

 

A silver haired woman with thin wire rims stepped out of the kitchen. Upon seeing them, she bent forward into a deep bow. 

 

“This is my wife, Setsuko. She’s an excellent cook. I hope the meal she’s preparing will give you lots of energy.”

 

Namjoon folded into a clumsy bow, trying not to drop Jia in the act. She was sleeping soundly against his shoulder.

 

Mrs. Nojiri smiled, wordlessly, and bustled back into the kitchen. 

 

Namjoon tugged off Jia’s shoes. Mr. Nojiri showed them to an elevator.

 

_An elevator._

 

He pushed the button to the 5th floor.

 

_The 5th floor._

 

On socked feet, Namjoon carried Jia to a drawing room that housed an elegant furniture set, some large ornamental pieces that looked to be from overseas, and a magnificent family shrine that appeared to be gilded in solid gold. Trying to appear too distracted, Namjoon followed Mr. Nojiri to a set of shogi doors. He threw them open to reveal the biggest, most comfortable futon Namjoon had ever laid eyes on. The plush white comforter practically screamed his name as he looked down at it. He laid Jia down on the futon and Mr. Nojiri led him down the hall to the ornate, marbled bathroom.

 

“It’s not much, but I hope you can make yourself comfortable here,” Mr. Nojiri said humbly. 

 

“It’s more than enough,” Namjoon said, gob smacked. 

 

“Truly, I am glad that I could bring you and your family to safety. Kibummie has had a few instances in the past where he’s needed a getaway but nothing of this sort. After all he’s done for me, I am glad to finally be of some help.”

 

“You two have worked together?” Namjoon asked boldly.

 

Mr. Nojiri smiled and gave a nod. “Yes. I’m a songwriter. He bought a few of my songs and showed them to his company. He really believed in my work when a lot of other people in the music business had already turned their backs on an old man like me. It’s thanks to him that both of our careers were able to do well here in Japan.”

 

Namjoon felt a bit more at ease now that he knew the nature of Key’s relationship with Mr. Nojiri. 

 

“Anyway, I do apologize for my poor Korean. I’ve only been studying for a while but since many of my clients these days are from Seoul, I should really try harder, ne?”

 

Namjoon shook his head no politely. “Your Korean is perfect. Really, thank you so much for helping us. You probably saved our lives. That’s the same to us in any language.”

 

Mr. Nojiri bowed to him and smiled. “Go ahead and relax now.”

 

Namjoon let the hot water in the shower rain down on his aching muscles. An assault of thoughts clouded his mind. He missed Yoongi so much he could hardly stand it. He wondered if he was okay; if he was freaking out over the whole mess. The thought of Yoongi in pain or scared or even worried made Namjoon physically recoil. He scrubbed diligently at his skin, as if trying to shed it to make way for a new body; a new life entirely.

 

 

After getting dressed in a pair of comfy sweats that he found in the bag Key packed for him, Namjoon fell asleep next to Jia on the futon. The beautifully warm water had relaxed his muscles and refreshed him just enough to give in to his exhaustion. It felt like he’d only just shut his eyes when someone was shaking him awake. 

 

“Namjoon-san.”

 

It was Mr. Nojiri’s voice.

 

Namjoon squinted at him through the bright light that now filled the room. 

 

“I’m very sorry to wake you but your parents and sister have arrived and we’re ready for dinner. It would be nice if you and Jia-chan could join us. They’re all very anxious to see you.”

 

Namjoon nodded sleepily and flopped back down on the futon as he let reality filter back to him. Namjoon thought Mr. Nojiri might have wanted him to follow but was hesitant. Seeing Namjoon’s reluctance, Mr. Nojiri quietly excused himself. 

 

Namjoon hadn’t seen his family since their explosive fight a few days earlier and he was worried that things hadn’t cooled down enough to face them…especially his father. They’d almost come to serious blows with one and other. He didn’t know how he could face him now. Afterall, this monumental disaster they were in had unfolded just days after trying to become an independent adult. His father would be smug, he could already see the look on his face. 

 

Namjoon finally decided that this wasn’t about him or his family. Ultimately, this was about Jia. He knew that she missed Kyungmin and Mama Kim and they missed her. He used this as strength to get Jia out of bed and ready for dinner. 

 

The dinner, had, in fact, restored energy but not the positive kind. Apart from a brief meeting of gazes, Namjoon’s father had completely ignored him when he turned up at the table. His mother and sister gave him tentative hugs but it only fueled the tension between them all. Now, with all of them huddled around the Nojiri’s large dining room table, the bad energy was nearly palpable. No one spoke.

 

Namjoon chewed on his food carefully, fussing over Jia now and again, just to have something to do. He could feel his father’s seething energy radiating into him from across the table.

 

“This meal is delicious,” Mama Kim offered quietly. She wasn’t her usual self at all. She was timid and frazzled and looked like she hadn’t slept in days. 

 

Mrs. Nojiri nodded with a smile. 

 

The room hardened with painful silence once more.

 

“I bet Yoongi can’t cook like this,” Namjoon’s father suddenly retorted. His bleary eyes were tunneled right into Namjoon’s. 

 

Everyone looked at him in varying shades of shock.

 

“Yobo…” Mama Kim said almost under her breath as she reached out to settle him while she still could.

 

He yanked his arm away from her and leaned forward awkwardly. Namjoon noted how unsteady he looked. Suddenly, he realized his father was horribly drunk. He had been so determined to ignore him that he’d managed to overlook this painfully obvious fact. 

 

Namjoon looked nervously over at his mother and sister who seemed to shrink into themselves; a silent confirmation. 

 

“Abeoji, maybe we shouldn’t talk about him just now,” Namjoon suggested as he tilted his head toward Jia. 

 

“Why not?” His father slurred. “Are you embarrassed that you let another man cook for you? No man can ever cook as well as a woman. I hope you really learn that one day…”

 

A palpable tension filled the air. 

 

Namjoon felt a pang of unease spread through his stomach as he tried to gauge what his father was implying. The rigid lines on his face said it all. Not only was he serious, he looked like wanted to fight about it. 

 

Namjoon looked again to his mother and sister for their input but it was clear that they’d already been put in their place. They were practically melded together in fear.

 

“What does it matter who cooks for me?” Namjoon asked as confidently as he could. Though he felt himself withering under his father’s judgmental gaze.

 

“It’s wrong!” His father roared. “It makes me sick to think about what else you do in that apartment…in front of _her_.” He motioned toward Jia.

 

“Th-this is so inappropriate,” Namjoon stammered. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“I don’t?! Am I wrong?!” His father hooked him into a gaze that implied he knew everything.

 

Namjoon felt the blood draining away from his face, feeding into the nausea that was growing in the pit of his stomach. He was frozen with fear. Was his father seriously outing him right in the middle of dinner, in front of near strangers, in the midst of a serious crisis? 

 

“Maybe we should talk outside…” Namjoon forced himself to say. His voice was so quiet he could barely hear himself. 

 

“Aish, so you don’t deny it?! You little shit!” Namjoon’s father stood up abruptly from the table and raised his open hand in the air, readying it to come down on Namjoon’s body.

 

“ _Yobo_ please!” Mama Kim begged him.

 

Everyone was staring in utter horror. 

 

Namjoon’s father seemed to have a small moment of clarity as he lowered his hand. “Let’s go!” He stormed out of the living room and Namjoon knew it wasn’t an option to stay put.

 

He couldn’t bring himself to look at his family members, or the Nojiri’s. He could only politely excuse himself. 

 

He followed his father outside onto the terrace that over looked the tranquil river. In the haze of night, the water rippled black and the air felt painfully cold. It ripped through Namjoon’s hair and across the dark waves, sending them up and down in thin white lines. 

 

“You’re committing too many sins to keep track of!” His father turned on him immediately. Fists clenched at his sides, face just inches from Namjoon’s he shouted, accusatory. 

 

“What are you talking about?” Namjoon was practically in tears. He knew exactly what his father was getting at and it scared the living shit out of him.

 

“You’re sleeping with Yoongi. That’s the real reason you wanted to move in with him, alone.”

 

Namjoon let out an incredulous laugh, even though his worst nightmare was literally playing out in front of him. His own father, somehow, knew that Namjoon was in love with Yoongi before Yoongi did. 

 

“Don’t you dare laugh in my face like that you little brat!” His father raised his hand again but dropped it, perhaps unmotivated by the lack of audience.   
“It’s not like that,” Namjoon pleaded quietly, face sober once more. 

 

“You really think you can fool me,” his father retorted. “You have no idea how careless you’ve been.”

 

Namjoon suddenly felt paranoid. What had he unwittingly revealed about himself despite his best efforts to be discrete about his feelings for Yoongi? He was too afraid to ask but he knew his father would fill in the blanks, regardless. 

 

“It’s written all over your face. The look…in your eyes…I know that look,” his father deflated and increased his distance from Namjoon by walking over to the terrace’s wrap around railing. He leaned over the edge and looked out at the water, unable to look at his son.

 

Namjoon let out a relieved sigh and quickly wiped at the tears on his cheeks. He didn’t know how to defend himself. Everything his father had said was the truth. What was there to defend? What would be the point in denying it? He hung back as the wind gently whipped across his hair and cheek and the silence of the night filled up around them. 

 

Eventually his father turned around, face red and ruddy from consternation. “I know the truth about you, but I can’t stand to hear it…”

 

“Then what do you want from me?!” Namjoon shouted back, eyes pinned to his cold, socked feet.

 

“Deny it! Tell me I’m wrong!”

 

“No!” Namjoon shouted back, head snapping up to meet his father’s gaze. “It’s too painful. If you already know…if they already know…” Namjoon motioned back toward the house in reference to his mother and sister, “then I really can’t go back to keeping it a secret. It hurts too much.”

 

Before Namjoon could flinch, his father’s open palm slammed into the side of his face. Namjoon reeled backward, catching himself on the side of the house before ultimately falling on his backside onto the cold concrete patio.

 

His father stood over him as he held his throbbing jaw. “It doesn’t matter what we all know. Yoongi isn’t our problem anymore. We can all finally move on.”

 

Namjoon felt a sudden pang of fear course through him. “What are you talking about?”

 

His father gave him a tiny smirk and shook his head. “He’s not near you or any other member of this family right now and that’s all that matters.”

 

Namjoon scrambled to his feet, jaw still a mass of swollen skin and bruised bone he barreled through the pain to implore his father again. “Where is he? What did you do?!” 

 

“It’s all been taken care of,” his father answered him vaguely. 

 

Namjoon felt like the earth had been pulled out from underneath him. He suddenly recalled the conversation he and Yoongi had on the swing set; about Yoongi trusting his father enough to ask for help when it came to saving Key. Yoongi had been so proud to know that Namjoon’s father was powerful enough to use his authority for real good; to help someone in true need. Now, Namjoon suddenly wonder if his father had been trustworthy at all. 

 

“His daughter is in that dining room, right now! What do you mean he’s been taken care of?!”

 

Namjoon’s father turned on him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He drove him backward into the exterior of the house. “You keep saying such stupid, stupid things, Namjoon-ah.” His father closed his eyes as if his head were suddenly paining him. “That girl in there isn’t even his kid. He’s your best friend and he didn’t even tell you that?” 

 

Namjoon’s face froze in fear. His father had never put his hands on him like this. Perhaps due to the stress of the situation and the alcohol that Namjoon could smell on his breath, there was an animalistic side to him that could no longer be contained. He was truly furious. The shock of this sudden abuse had almost overridden his ability to hear what his father was saying. Yet, unfortunately, he heard every word. 

 

“Abeoji…” Namjoon chocked. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

 

“It doesn’t matter how drunk I get. There are just some things that are too good to forget. I quite liked it when Yoongi came to me after he found out the truth about Jia. He was in so much pain. He even asked me what he should do,” Namjoon’s father let out a smile bite of laughter. “I told him it   
was his choice. I guess he decided not to say anything to you.”

 

“You’re making things up!” Namjoon insisted, trying hard to push his father off him. Even drunk and disoriented, however, Namjoon was no match to him. He knew his father wasn’t beyond making up petty lies if it meant driving a wedge between them. He’d never been comfortable with how close he and Yoongi were.   
“Looks like we’re both good at making a up lies, then.” Even in the dark the fury in his eyes could not be extinguished.

 

Namjoon heaved himself forward with a sudden burst of adrenaline laced strength and somehow managed to hurl his father off him. He threw his arms out at his side, huffing with anger, nausea, panic, and a slew of other unnamable emotions. Fists clenched he drew his hand back, ready to drive it straight into his father’s face but Kyungmin suddenly slid herself between them, facing Namjoon with darkened eyes of her own.

 

“Don’t make this worse, Joonie, please,” she begged him quietly. 

 

Their father took the opportunity to slink back into the house without another word. 

 

Namjoon collapsed onto the patio. His breath came in torrents. This was all too much and as the anger and adrenaline drained from him, his mind went soaring in a thousand different directions.

 

He wanted to pull himself off the ground, chase after his father, and beat him to a bloody pulp. He wanted to fling himself off the terrace out of sheer embarrassment for having been exposed. He wanted to launch himself into another plane back across the ocean to Korea, back to Yoongi. He wanted to hold Jia as tightly as he could and let her know it was all going to be okay. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to cry. He wanted to reverse time. He knew he couldn’t do a single one of those things. All he could do was sit on that cold patio, half catatonic. 

 

Kyungmin pulled him into her chest and held him tightly. It took a long while for the chaos in his mind to lift. 

 

“Everyone knew?” Namjoon asked, tears brimming at his eyes once again. “…how I felt about Yoongi?”

 

Kyungmin gave him a sympathetic smile and reached over to smooth out his hair. “You’re not as cool as you think,” she ribbed him gently.

 

Namjoon groaned and buried his head on top of his knees, his quiet sobs slid out of him as his final layer of defense melted away with her confirmation.

 

Kyungmin rubbed his back in gentle circles. “Dad is a jerk,” she mumbled. “Who cares if you love Yoongi? You’re fucking cute together. I don’t think any woman could make you happier than he’s always made you…no matter how well she cooks.”

 

Namjoon let out a strangled bit of laughter and rested the side of his damp cheek on his knee caps. “Thank you,” he mumbled, “but this has to go both ways. Who cares how I feel if Yoongi doesn't feel the same way? Especially now, with all of this going on. We have bigger problems. I don’t even know where Yoongi is…dad said he did something to him…and that Jia isn’t even Yoongi’s kid…do I take him seriously?”

 

Kyungmin’s expression sobered and she bit at her lower lip. “I think there’s a lot about dad we don’t know.”


	29. Fresh Air

**Yoongi**

 

Yoongi struggled to sit up right but he could feel his head heavily lulling around on his neck, out of his control. He braced his hands on the cold backroom floor, willing his eyes open. He was trying, desperately, to see if Hoseok was still conscious. 

 

Taehyung had helped Choi deposit their broken bodies into the chilly, un-insulated backroom of the house and even during that short distance, Yoongi’s own consciousness had gone in and out. He was terrified to think just how bad Hoseok was faring, having been bludgeoned in the back of the head. 

 

Through the hazy dim of the room, Yoongi could see a pile of breathing clothes beside him, but no face. He threw his hands out in the dark and tried to see if there was any blood. His hands immediately fell upon something warm and sticky. He withdrew them and brought his fingers up to his eyes. A small gasp escaped him as he realized his hands were covered in Hoseok’s blood. 

 

“Fuck,” he coughed into the cold, stale air. A sudden surge of adrenaline raced through him and gave him just enough strength to look around for an exit. There had to be a door or a window…something he could break down and escape through. Yoongi had no idea what Choi had in store for him but he knew he wasn’t willing to sit around and wait for it to come.

 

He clutched at the thin hospital gown that clung to his aching body and tried to pull himself along the dusty floor to a place he thought a door might be. There was a thin, yellow outline of light shining against the wall across from him. He decided it was his best shot. He made it to the patch of light when, suddenly, the door swung open on its hinges and knocked him backward. 

 

Taehyung was standing in the doorway, an unreadable look marring his shadowed face. Yoongi fell backward on his elbows, and shot him a menacing look as he held his stomach to keep from screaming out or vomiting or both.

 

Taehyung stepped down into the room and closed the door behind him. He crouched down over Yoongi and pulled him up by the flimsy cotton of his gown.  
For a tense moment, Yoongi braced himself for more abuse. 

Instead, Taehyung righted him against the wall and pulled something out of his pocket, a piece of paper, and handed it to Yoongi.

 

Yoongi willed his eyes to focus on the drawing in his hands. He immediately recognized it as one of Jia's creations. Her stiff, dark pencil lines, smudged by the pull of her tiny fist along the paper as she diligently scribbled out the image from her mind. Two little chefs, happily cooking something over stove.

 

"How did you get this?" Yoongi sputtered, his entire body felt like it had been speared; like he was the one roasting in one of those pans.

 

"I don't have time to explain now. But, please, let this be a sign to you that I'm on your side. You can trust me."

 

Yoongi gave Taehyung a dubious look but what choice did he have. Trustworthy or not, he was at the man's mercy.

 

“Is he still breathing?” Taehyung asked in a hurried whisper. There was kindness in his voice; genuine concern. 

 

Yoongi unclenched and followed Taehyung’s gaze to Hoseok’s nearly lifeless body. 

 

“He’s breathing…b-but there’s a lot of blood…”

 

Taehyung nodded then turned his gaze back to Yoongi. “Drink this.”

 

He brought forth a bottle of water, which Yoongi noted was completely sealed. He decided his thrist was greater than any suspicions he had that Taehyung would try to poison him in that moment and happily chugged the entire thing. As Yoongi helplessly peered over the bottle at Taehyung, he noticed that his expression was growing softer by the second but there was an urgency in his eyes.

 

Yoongi took the water away from his mouth and tried to say something but Taehyung stopped him.

 

“Don’t say anything, just listen,” Taehyung instructed. “There’s a team of police gathering outside as we speak. Kim Kibum-sshi is with them. He’s going to distract Choi while I get you and Hoseok out of here. We have to time this exactly right or we’re all screwed.”

 

“What?! Why is Key here? Does he have something to do with this?” 

 

“I don’t have time to explain it all right now,” Taehyung hissed as he looked over his shoulder. “That doorbell is going to ring any minute. When it does, you need to be ready to run out that door.” Taehyung motioned to the back door just out of view. 

 

Yoongi’s eyes filled with anxiety. “I can barely sit up straight. How am I supposed to run?”

 

Taehyung considered this for a moment then shook his head. “You don’t have another choice. I need to get Hoseok out of here so you have to help yourself. It’s just a few feet and then an officer will help you the rest of the way. Can you do it?”

 

Yoongi nodded, stiffening his resolve. 

 

Taehyung gave him a tight nod and went to Hoseok. As he slid his arms underneath the nearly unconscious man, Hoseok let out a flutter of a moan.  
“I know it hurts,” Taehyung cooed. “We’re going to get you some help, just hang in there.”

 

Hoseok tried to reach his arm up to touch Taehyung but his hand fell back down, limply, over his stomach and his eyes fluttered shut. 

 

“Stay awake!” Taehyung urged him quietly. “Stay with me. You’re okay, you’re going to be okay…” he slid his hand into Hoseok’s and gripped it tightly. 

 

Yoongi was so entranced by their interaction that the sudden chime of the doorbell made him jump. Another surge of adrenaline pierced his nerves. He shot a wild look at Taehyung who practically shouted for him to run. He lifted himself to his feet and tore through the few hundred paces to the back door. Miraculously, he saw sunlight, felt damp grass under his feet, the clean, clear burst of late winter air gripped his lungs. He fell to his knees but he felt someone gripping his body before he could fully hit the ground. Then, nothing.

 

**Key**

 

The door swung open and Key saw, for the first time, the real-live face of Min Sunhee. There was a moment when neither of them quite knew how to react to each other but, surprisingly, Key was the first one to break the silence with a brave smile. 

 

“I heard you were having a party this evening. I wasn’t directly invited but I have the feeling I’m more than welcome.”

 

Sunhee’s face broke into a smile as well. Without saying anything, she stepped aside and let him in.

 

Key was amazed at how stupid she was. Any normal person would have been suspicious but this woman fully and legitimately seemed to believe that she was in full control. Then again, Key wondered if this couldn’t go both ways. Perhaps they’d been expecting him and he was walking into an even more complicated trap than he could imagine. He tried not to let his mind wander too far and took those first few brave steps into the house. 

 

Sunhee closed the door behind him as he toed off his shoes. 

 

“Yobo! We have more company!” She called sing-song through the foyer. 

 

Key rolled his eyes and followed her into the belly of the house. Quite suddenly, Choi’s face popped up in the archway of the dining room, a slimy smile dripped down his face, even before he realized it was Key.

 

“Ah…the man of the hour,” Choi said, voice dripping. “Please, come in. We were just about to have dinner.”

 

“I heard,” Key said, trying not to lose stride in his feigning confidence. “If you wanted to invite me you could have just asked. I had to hear about this from my friends,” Key pouted. 

 

Choi smirked darkly at Key, clearly unimpressed by his audacity; not at all in the mood to play games.

 

“Your friends, unfortunately, aren’t able to join us after all. Taehyung is keeping them…entertained in another room for now. Why don’t you have a seat while we wait for him.”

 

“I’d love to.” Key plopped down in a chair at the long dining room table. 

 

Almost immediately, Sunhee came up from behind him and wrapped a thick, black chord around his neck. His head slammed into the back of the chair as he pulled tighter and tighter.

 

Key’s brittle veneer of confidence immediately shattered as his eyes bulged wildly and his hands flew up to fight back against the tension across his airway. He tried, desperately, to slip his fingers under the chord to stop its slow constriction from tightening any further, but his panic had made him weak and disoriented. 

 

“Relax,” Sunhee giggled as she bent down low to his ear. “I’m just tying it for now. See?” 

 

Key felt, with instant relief, some slack gaining in the chord as she looped it through the chair and walked around the side of him. She produced two more black chords and began tying his wrist to the arm of the chair. 

 

Key clenched his fist and brought it up wildly, trying to fight back as best as he could but Choi was quicker. He snatched up a steak knife and threw it down into the arm of the chair, just beside Key’s forearm, pinning his sleeve to the wood. 

 

“There’s no need to get violent,” he scolded him calmly. 

 

Key realized that he didn’t have much choice and tried to remind himself that Seokjin was just outside, monitoring the whole situation. He wouldn’t let things get too out of hand…he hoped. 

 

Suddenly, another person was in the room. Key recognized him as Dr. Kim Taehyung, his physical therapist. Seokjin had informed Key that Taehyung was on their side but the fact that he was inexplicably covered in blood from torso to finger tips was not any great comfort to Key. 

Key stared at Taehyung in utter horror.

 

“How is he?” Choi wondered, also slightly off put by all the gore on Taehyung’s clothes and hands. “He’s worthless if he’s dead.”

 

“He’ll live,” Taehyung confirmed, cryptically. 

 

“Good. And the other one?” Choi slid his gaze over to Key, smug and filthy. 

 

Key wanted nothing more than to annihilate him like the cockroach he was but he swallowed his anger, unwilling to give Choi any added pleasure.

 

“Unconscious, but breathing,” Taehyung answered, sterile. 

 

“Good. I’m so glad I have another medical professional I can call on. I’ve already gotten my hands too dirty getting those brats here. I refuse to touch them anymore.”  
Taehyung laughed but Key could tell it was forced.

 

“Anyway, get cleaned up. Dinner is ready,” Choi waved Taehyung off.

 

As Taehyung walked by Key’s chair, however, Key suddenly felt Taehyung trip over the leg of his chair. Before Taehyung stood up, he felt something cold, thin, and metallic slide under his back side. Key tried to keep his face placid. 

 

“Oh, sorry, blood still makes me a bit woozy,” Taehyung explained. “That’s why I left surgery to become a PT. I guess I’m having med school flashbacks.”  
Choi laughed congenially, as if his Taehyung were his son and he had just told an amusing joke. 

 

Taehyung kept his eyes fixated on his plate, mechanically cutting the last bits of his steak and forking them into his mouth with robotic motion. The entire thing infuriated Key, who sat, like a prized carcass at the head of the table, helpless to do anything but stare. He had only been told to serve Choi the fruit, the rest of the plan was intentionally kept secret. All he could do was wait, anxiously, for it to unfold. 

 

After what felt like eternity, Taehyung snapped his head up and looked around at everyone’s plate. “Wow, I thought I was a fast eater, but I’ve been dominated again by you two.”

 

“Prison food is atrocious,” Choi spat. “I still can’t get enough fine dining now that I’m out.” 

 

“How about dessert, then?” he called cheerfully. “I brought a fruit salad. I made it myself with some of the fruit from my grandparents’ farm. They sent it right from the Seo District, fresh!” 

 

Key’s entire body went on alert. This was his que. 

 

Taehyung stood up and began clearing plates away. “Dr. Choi, I think you’ll be happy to know that it has lots of good fruit to keep your kidneys healthy!” 

 

Dr. Choi flashed him a grateful smile and motioned for him to go to the kitchen to get it ready.

 

“Actually, I might need some help. Sunhee, would you mind?”

 

Key froze. If Sunhee left the room with Taehyung, that would leave Key alone with Choi. Was this really part of the plan? How could they do that to him? He felt sickened as he watched the pair of them leave the room.

 

Predictably, as soon as they were gone, Choi closed in on him. Wordlessly, Choi slid his hand into Key’s crotch and rested his hand inner thigh. He breathed in through his nose, eyes closed, then opened them we a smile. “See you here is so much better than I thought it would be.”

 

Key tried to control his anxious breath but he could feel a full on panic attack descending on him. He slowly began to recall that night in his barracks. The feel of strange male hands groping his crotch, the smell of garlicky breath stinging his nostrils and it blew hot and wet into his skin. As Choi leaned in further, Key could feel his own breath catching in his throat. This was agony in its worst form.

 

Tears began to stream down Key’s face as he anticipated the attack. He couldn’t hold himself together anymore. The entire room was spinning the further down Choi’s shadow pinned him. 

 

Just then, Taehyung and Sunhee arrived in the doorway of the dining room. Sunhee looked pale and frightened but didn’t say a word as she sat down. Taehyung followed, close behind, balancing the bowl of fruit in his arms. 

 

Choi stepped away from Key and looked up at them, suspicion claiming his features. “Sunhee-ah, you look terrible. Is something wrong?”

 

“I-I don’t feel well. The baby is suddenly very active,” she pressed her hands into her slightly swollen belly. “I think I need to go lay down for a while.”

 

Choi looked up to Taehyung for an explanation.

 

He looked dolefully innocent. “I think it was the smell of the fruit. Which one was it that you said you can’t handle right now?”

 

“Apples,” she mumbled. “You told me there wouldn’t be any.”

 

“My mistake,” Taehyung said, apologetically. “I could have sworn you said it was _pine_ apples.”

 

“Okay…” Choi looked at them both with caution. “Go ahead and wash up. I’ll check on you after dessert.” 

 

Sunhee nodded and quickly left the room. Key, though still struggling to recover from his panic, felt impressed by Taehyung’s underhandedness. He really had gotten close with Choi and Sunhee if he even knew what nauseated her. 

 

Taehyung waved her off and bent over to collect some fruit salad from the bowl to begin serving. “I really am sorry about not remembering about the pineapple,” he lamented. “I’ll have to make you another dessert as an apology.”

 

Then, suddenly, a clattering from the back room of the house. 

 

Choi’s head snapped up as he looked around to confirm where the noise had come from. Taehyung dropped the salad tongs and looked in the direction of the room he’d helped Choi deposit Hoseok and Yoongi into just a few hours earlier. 

 

“Go check on them!” Choi ordered Taehyung. 

 

Taehyung nodded and, again, tripped on Key’s chair on the way to the backroom. While Taehyung was still on the floor, he felt the cool, thin, metallic thing slide out from underneath him.

 

“Aish! Stop being clumsy! Go!” Choi roared at Taehyung. 

 

Once Taehyung was out of the room, Choi settled back down in his chair and began dishing out the salad into the empty bowl in front of him.

 

Key tried not to watch. He decided it would be better; more believable to give himself over to his lingering panic. He bent his head and let the tears fall from his eyes as the visions of his attack washed over him. 

 

Then, suddenly, he heard gagging noises emanating from the other end of the table. His head snapped up and he could see Choi’s face turning red, then purple, then grey as he clutched at his throat. Panic coursing through Key as he watched the color show, he desperately pulled at the chords that bound him to the chair. This was his chance to escape but he couldn’t move.

 

All at once, he heard and felt the chords snap off around his neck and wrists. Taehyung was behind him with the knife and was sawing away at the tethers at breakneck speed. All at once, he was free. He fell forward, catching himself on the table. His lungs filled up to full capacity and a sense of calm washed over him despite his inability to look away from the gasping, sputtering doctor at the other end of the table.

 

“C’mon! We need to go!”

 

Key held onto Taehyung as he rushed him out of the house, passed a swat team of police officers.


	30. Deja Vu

Taehyung herded Key into the back of a police van and hopped in after him. As Key struggled to catch his breath, he looked out the window. Two ambulances wailed passed the van and out of sight. He knew Yoongi was in one of them and desperately wanted to jump out and follow but he came to his senses and managed to look at Taehyung. There were other police officers in the car that Key was dimly aware of and as the van lurched forward, taking them away, they undid the wires that were taped to his skin.

 

Taehyung didn’t say anything. He looked pale and terribly sad. 

 

After spending a few long hours at the police station, Key rehashing everything from the time he entered the military to what transpired that afternoon, the police let him go and told him they would be in contact. 

 

Before Key left the room, Seokjin grabbed his arm and gave him a genuine smile.

 

“You did brilliantly today. Thank you. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”

 

Key gave him a solitary nod.

 

“We’ve got almost everyone on our list now but, just in case, I’m going to have you and Taehyung put up in a hotel for tonight so my guys can keep an eye on you and the new hospital Yoongi and Hoseok are staying in.”

 

Key nodded. “Where are they…am I allowed to know?”

 

Seokjin’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Kibum-ah. Until we get everything under control, I have to keep that information confidential.”

 

Key sighed but he understood. “You said you have _almost_ everyone?” 

 

“Yes. Ironically, one of the last targets on our list is Kim Sejin, Namjoon’s father. Until he’s in our custody, I’m afraid we can’t take any chances.”

 

“I can get to him!” Key insisted. He hated himself in that moment. How could he have been so stupid? Not only had he helped the biggest fugitive of them all, he’d also involved his good friends the Nojiris, into the mess.

 

“It’s not that simple. He’s already made a run for it. My guys are trying to track him down as we speak.”

 

“Fuck,” Key groaned miserably.

 

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over this,” Seokjin encouraged him gently. “You did more than enough to help us today. We’ll take it from here. Just knowing his last location already gives us a head start.”

 

A sudden though socked into Key’s gut. “He wouldn’t try to come back to Korea, would he? Yoongi and Hoseok might not be at his hospital anymore but surely he knows other doctors…if he really wanted to hurt them…”

 

“Kibum-ah!” Seokjin called out to him as he shook him gently by the shoulders. “You’ve been through a lot today. Don’t make it harder for yourself by letting your imagination run wild. We are going to protect you… _all_ of you. The best thing you can do for now is get some rest at the hotel.”

 

Key agreed, even though he knew it wouldn’t really be possible. 

 

Taehyung was waiting for him in the lobby, eyes puffy and tired looking. He stretched out his arms and rubbed the back of his neck, looking sore and stiff. When he saw Key, he got to his feet and gave him a small smile. 

 

“I don’t know about you but I don’t think I can be alone tonight. Do you want to get a coffee or something when we get to the hotel?”

 

“Fuck coffee,” Key mumbled, “I bet they have loads of liquor.”

 

“I don’t really drink,” Taehyung shrugged. 

 

“Well it’s a damn good time to start.”

 

 

After a few days holed up in the hotel room with no way of contacting Yoongi or Hoseok both Key and Taehyung were getting stir crazy.

 

“I hate this,” Taehyung sulked as he folded into a fetal position on the bed. He clutched an overstuffed pillow to his chest and buried his nose in the edge of it. “It’s been almost a week since Seokjin and all those stupid police officers threw us into that disgusting house and this is what we get for it? How long does it take to get out of witness protection or whatever the hell this is?”

 

Key looked up from the phone in his hands. It was new, issued to him by the police after his old one had been confiscated for evidence. In order to not go completely insane during their stay at the hotel, Key had been playing around with new floorplans for the café in one of the pre-installed apps. 

 

He set the phone aside and closed the gap between them, joining Taehyung on the bed. 

 

“You know,” Key said, “in all this time we’ve been locked in here, you never did tell me how you got involved with Choi and Sunhee or who made that noise in the backroom to distract Choi.”

 

“It was just one of the officers bumping into stuff to make it sound like Yoongi and Hoseok were moving around,” Taehyung sighed. “Yoongi and Hoseok were already out of the house long before that. It was just a distraction. As for how I got tangled up with those lunatics…well…you know what love does to people. You’d do anything to protect them.”

 

“You fell in love with Sunhee too?!” Key assumed, flabbergasted. 

 

“Ugh…no,” Taehyung pulled a face. “I’m in love with Hoseok,” he proclaimed proudly. 

 

Key smiled brightly at him. Just then Key’s phone rang. Seokjin's name flashed across the screen.

 

“Kim Sejin has turned himself in,” Seokjin blurted out before Key could even say hello.

 

Key deflated on the bed, real oxygen rushing to his head for the first time in months. Taehyung untucked himself from behind the pillow and looked at him with expectant eyes. Key held up a finger to him, signaling to wait for a minute.

 

Taehyung already guessed what was going on, however and leapt off the bed to do a solo happy dance by himself in the corner.

 

“Sejin also exposed a handful of other miscreants waiting in the wings who, unbelievably, were already planning another attack. We’ve officially taken every last one of them into custody. You and Taehyung can leave the hotel now.” 

 

Key thanked him profusely and then, without hesitation, joined Taehyung’s dance party. 

 

Hoseok and Yoongi had been taken to different hospitals in an extra measure to ensure their safety. So Key parted ways with Taehyung at the hotel. Hoseok, would need a few more days to recover and Taehyung was more than willing to be his personal nurse. 

 

“Make sure he’s not insane when his head finally heals,” Key made Taehyung promise. “I need my therapists back in good condition…both of you.”

 

Taehyung promised he would do his best and they folded into a tight hug. 

 

 

Yoongi, much to Key’s delight, was finally strong enough to be discharged and he was more than anxious to get him home. He was folding up a blanket in his hospital room, buried in a thick blue beanie, befitted with a white face mask, and practically drowning in sweats as Key lightly rapped his knuckles on the door. 

 

Yoongi jolted for a second but relaxed when he saw Key smiling at him.

 

“Hey,” he smiled back, pulling his face mask down. 

 

“Are you ready to get out of here?” Key asked him.

 

Yoongi folded his arms across his chest, protectively and nodded. “I need to see Jia,” he said quietly. “…and Namjoon. I still can’t believe his dad behind all of this…”

 

Key’s smile fell slightly as Yoongi brought up Namjoon’s name but he told himself not to get petty. Key may have been Yoongi’s best friend first, and he may have just put his entire life on the line to rescue him from an evil web of terror, but Namjoon was Namjoon. Key could never compete. Still, he didn’t let himself lose hope.

 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Key said, motioning for Yoongi to sit down.

 

Yoongi looked at him with concern. “What is it?”

 

"There's something I want to tell you...about why all of this bullshit came your way. I think you should know the full story."

 

Yoongi waited patiently for him to continue.

 

“When we first met, did you feel like you’d seen me somewhere before. I mean, not just on TV or whatever but…from a long time ago?”

 

Yoongi felt his ears turn pink with embarrassment. “Yes, actually.”

 

“I had the same feeling,” Key said. “So much so that it drove me crazy. I had to figure out why so I went through every single box I could find until I found this.”

 

Key reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, then retrieved the teddy bear eye. He placed it in Yoongi’s hand. “Does this hold any meaning for you?”

 

Yoongi rolled the black button in his snowy white palm, observing it from all angles before looking back at Key with uncertainty. “No…should I know what this is?”

 

“Can you think back to your childhood at all?” Key challenged him, hopefully.

 

“No,” Yoongi admitted. “If this has anything to do with my childhood, it’s meaningless. My parents were incredibly guarded about that time in my life. We never talked about it. I always thought it was suspicious…like there was this whole story I wasn’t allowed to access.” 

 

“What if I told you that you weren’t wrong?” 

 

Yoongi swallowed and looked up at Key for an explanation.

 

“All this shit that’s been happening with Choi, including what happened to you at his house a few days ago, was just a continuation of something that started when we were kids. With Kim Sejin’s blessing, Choi terrorized your family so much that you had to move away. I heard rumors that they hired someone to make you forget your past entirely; a special doctor.”

 

Yoongi felt his head spin a little and Key noted his uneasy expression with a pang of guilt. He told Namjoon that he would spare Yoongi bad news in the future but it seemed wrong to withhold this information from him, especially now. 

 

Key sighed heavily and took the button back into his hands. “The teddy bear you carried around as a kid…it was missing an eye, wasn’t it?”

 

“How did you know that?”

 

“I’m the one who blinded him.” Key raised his hand sheepishly.

 

Realization dawned on Yoongi’s face. “You mean…this button is _the_ button?

 

Key nodded. 

 

“But if you’re the one who blinded him that means we…we were friends before this?”

 

“Yes. Close friends.”

 

Yoongi opened and closed his mouth a few times, attempting to say something but nothing came out. 

 

Key watched him hopefully for a moment. Admittedly, he was hoping something would suddenly click in Yoongi’s mind and he’d suddenly remember everything; suddenly love him. But when it was clear that Yoongi was in shock, he decided that it would be better to let him process everything in his own time.   
“This whole time…ever since we were little…Choi was hunting us down?”

 

“Well, me, mostly. But when he saw that we were…getting close again…you got sucked back in. My guess is that since Namjoon’s father was always good friends with Choi, and defended him at every turn, Choi decided to leave you alone.”

 

“But Namjoon’s father turned himself in. He admitted to having me and Hoseok kidnapped. If he was initially trying to protect me, did something change?”

 

Key wondered for a moment. Then, suddenly, with another stab of realization, thought of Namjoon. Had Yoongi ever done anything to hurt Namjoon that would make his father fly off the handle? Or worse…had he ever done anything to make Namjoon unspeakably, perhaps, inappropriately happy? 

 

“I did encourage him to quit med school to help us with the café…” Yoongi reasoned.

 

“Would that have been enough to make him come after you? There wasn’t something deeper?” Key challenged. He was trying to sound out how Yoongi felt for Namjoon. It was clear that Namjoon was in love, but Key never could quite work out how Yoongi felt. If Yoongi didn’t feel the same, maybe, maybe Key still had a chance.

 

Yoongi’s entire body froze at Key’s insinuation. “What do you mean by _deeper_?” 

 

Key decided to forge on ahead. Everything was still in chaos; the pieces of their lives still hadn’t fallen back into normalcy. Now was likely the best time to ask messy questions. He could work on putting his feelings for Yoongi behind him along with everything else. 

 

“Have you and Namjoon ever…?”

 

“Oh my God…” Yoongi folded his head into his hands and shook his head wearily. “That must be exactly what Namjoon’s dad thinks. How could I have been so stupid?” Yoongi balled up his fists at his sides in frustration. 

 

Key sat beside him, awkwardly, still unsure if his question had even been asked, let alone answered. “So you have dated?” Key wondered.

 

“No! Of course not!” Yoongi nearly shouted. “But we’ve been…close…closer than friends should have been…I always knew Namjoon might have had feelings but…ah…this is insane. I can’t have this conversation right now. I need to see him.”

 

Key had his answer. He decided to let his heart shred itself in silence as he brought forth the ticket to Japan for Yoongi to see. “Here. Jia and Namjoon are waiting for you.”

 

“There’s only one,” Yoongi frowned. “Where’s yours?”

 

Key tucked the ticket into Yoongi’s hand and gave him a lonely smile. “You have business to take care of in Japan. I have business to take care of here.” 

 

“You mean the cafe?” Yoongi asked, hopeful. 

 

Key nodded with a smile. “I’ll tell you all about it when you get back. That’s an open-ended ticket, by the way. I want you to take as much time as you need to be okay again.”

 

Yoongi felt the tears brimming in his eyes before he could even put his defenses in order. Visions of everything that had happened in the last three months from Jiyun's death, to Jia's emotional turmoil, to Namjoon's anger with him, and now to his time suffering at the hands of evil men all descended upon him at once. “I might never come back if those are the conditions.”

 

Key reached out and ran his thumb gently along Yoongi’s pink cheeks, drying his tears. 

 

Yoongi looked up at him, as if he suddenly remembered something the moment Key’s hand connected to his skin; a distant memory, perhaps déjà vu. 

 

This wasn’t the first time Key had tenderly wiped his tears away. 

 

A sudden flash of a scene he’d long forgotten, a sunny day in early spring as he stood just outside of a car door, he could remember a teddy bear being pressed into his arms. Tears falling down his cheeks. This same hand wiping them away. 

 

The pair of them seemed to be having the same memory and snapped back to reality almost within the same instant. 

 

Key withdrew his hand, feeling overly exposed. Yoongi sniffled and wiped the tears off his own cheeks. 

 

“There’s a lot I need to tell you when you get back,” Key whispered quietly. “Please don’t stay away for too long this time.”

 

Yoongi knew exactly what he meant.


	31. SMUT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! THE SMUTTIEST SMUT THAT I CAN SMUT FOR ALL YOU SMUT-LOVERS*** Thank you for being patient. I hope you enjoy :D

An entire week had passed by since Yoongi made it to Shirakwa and the Norjiri house. Initially Mama Kim and Kyungmin had planned to stay at the house for a little bit longer but they found Namjoon’s petulant demeanor increasingly unbearable. The women of the Kim family wanted to come together and heal after their patriarch had shown himself to be such a cruel and calloused monster but Namjoon wanted no part in that approach. Instead, he stomped around the house, angry and sulking, and those were his good days. Most of the time no one saw his face at all. He spent hours or even days locked in the fifth-floor bedroom, refusing to talk to anyone, even Jia. 

 

Finally, Namjoon’s mother and sister decided that they would venture out on their own. They didn’t say where they were going but they gave Yoongi and Jia extra long hugs and promised to see them soon.

 

Mama Kim held the side of Yoongi’s face and peered into his eyes with gentle, motherly affection. “I am so, so sorry…for all of this. I don’t know how you can ever trust us again.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Yoongi assured her for what felt like the millionth time. 

 

“I know it’s too much to ask, but look after him…please?” Mama Kim’s eyes wandered up to the ceiling, as if she thought she might catch a glimpse of her son all the way on the fifth floor.

 

“It’s not too much. It’s what we’ve always done,” he assured her again. 

 

She gave him a tender smile. “I know,” she whispered. “Love is like that.” She patted him on the cheek and disappeared out of the house. 

 

Jia was feeling sad after Kyungmin and Mama Kim left. Yoongi really had no idea how to explain any of this to her. The lessons he thought he’d be teaching his daughter, and she was his, regardless of genetics, were not the kind that involved so many goodbyes. Still, this is where he found himself. 

 

“Jia-bean, you want to go for a walk?” Yoongi called to her as she sketched something at the kitchen table. 

 

Her plump white cheek rested on her hand and without looking up ad him she gave a small nod, the dimple in her skin disappearing into her palm. 

 

The wind outside was temperate if not truly warm. The winter was finally melting away and Yoongi could smell the clean breaths of spring exhaling around them as they crunched along the gravel walking path behind the Nojiri house. The path flowed out, like a swirling stone wave toward the blue river. Along the path, tiny purple and yellow flowers danced in the wind and the long, thin blades of grass that blanketed the meadow practically screamed in their greenery. 

 

Yoongi stooped down and picked up a flat smooth rock from the walking path and flung it out over the river. It skipped twice, then sank to the bottom with a _thunk._

 

“How did you do that?” Jia asked, amazed. 

 

Yoongi smiled at her. “That wasn’t my best. The key is finding the right type of rock.” 

 

They spent the afternoon looking for skipping rocks, picking flowers to make crowns, and turning over big rocks to find frogs to take home as pets. That afternoon, Yoongi was no longer broken. 

 

When they were tired, they sat on the river bank, flower crowns in their hair, silently looking out over the gently rippling blue before them. 

 

“I miss Jiyunnie,” Jia sighed as she flopped backward in the grass. A third flower crown lay on her chest as she looked up at the late afternoon sky. “She would have had fun with us today.”

 

“Why don’t you tell her about it?” Yoongi suggested, leaning back on his own hands and looking up at the fast-moving clouds overhead. 

 

“I don’t need to. She saw everything, already,” Jia reasoned. “I just wish she’d come down here and get this crown I made for her.”

 

In the past, Yoongi would have gotten frustrated with this kind of talk. No matter how many times he told Jia differently, she still really believed Jiyun could come back. It used to hurt him and make him angry. He wanted to fix her thinking. He wanted her to understand something like that wasn’t possible. Now, however, he felt a sense of calm. He was refreshed by her innocence; amazed by her hopefulness.

 

“I have something I want you to have,” Yoongi said after a long silence. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Jia’s picture. He handed it to her and watched as the smile slowly spread across her face.

 

“You saw my drawing?” She asked, her smile radiant.

 

Yoongi smiled back and nodded. “It’s perfect.”

 

“Perfect enough to be part of the drawings you and Jiyunnie made together?” 

 

Yoongi felt the tears in his eyes but he blinked them away before they could fall. “Of course,” he said with the most genuine smile he’d worn in months. “This drawing is the start of something new,” he assured her. “Your love for Jiyunnie and your talent for drawing…no one can take that away from you, Jia. No matter what happens, no matter how much around you is changing, no matter how many people seem like they are saying goodbye…you will always have this.” He pressed the paper deeper into her palms as he spoke, then, pulled her into a gentle hug and held her against his chest until the sun started to set. 

 

After Jia was asleep in their third-floor suite, and the Nojiris had bid him a good night, Yoongi faced the most challenging part of his day: facing Namjoon. 

 

For the passed week, he’d had Mama Kim and Kyungmin as a nice support system; people to share worry and concern with; people to take cues from as to how to act around him. Now that they were gone, Yoongi felt horribly vulnerable; at a complete loss as to what to do. The day he’d spent with Jia had been the most healing and rewarding time he’d spent with anyone in months. He longed to have the same experience with Namjoon and he knew that avoiding him wasn’t the way to get it.  
Ultimately, he decided to climb the two flights of stairs to the fifth floor and check in on his best friend.

 

Once at the top, Yoongi was surprised by just how emotional he was feeling. He swallowed, hard, tears forming on his lashes. He blinked them away, angry at himself for not being in control. If there was ever a time in his life where he needed to be steadfast, this was it. His whole life, from the time he was a scared little kid on the playground, clutching his teddy bear, Namjoon had been by his side. Namjoon had given him every ounce of himself. He had dedicated every thought, every emotion, every action to Yoongi’s well being.

 

Had he ever fully realized or appreciated it? 

 

It was his turn to love Namjoon back, which ever version of him was waiting behind that door. He knocked once against the shogi doors but when a long minute passed with no answer, Yoongi stepped into Namjoon’s room and slid the door shut the door behind him. He couldn’t stand the thought of being rejected. He was determined that there would be no more rejection, from either of them, ever again. He’d been through too damn much to feel shitty anymore. 

 

Yoongi’s eyes immediately fell on the pile of quivering white blankets on the floor. Tentatively, he crossed the room and sat beside the pile, half on the straw tatami mats. 

 

Namjoon’s face was buried in his pillows, his back, shuttering slightly with sobs. If he noticed Yoongi sitting there, he didn’t show it.  
Yoongi placed a gentle hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and gave him a gentle pat. “Namjoon-ah…” he called to him softly. “Is this where you’ve been all this time? Crying in your bed like this?”

 

Namjoon sniffled and turned away from Yoongi onto his side. “How can you stand to be in the same room with me?” His voice was stuffy as he spoke. “Aren’t you afraid I’m some kind of monster…just like…him…?”

 

Yoongi sighed and gently pulled at Namjoon’s shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about him…I want to talk about us.”

 

Yoongi’s willingness to stay by his side and overlook what his father had done jolted Namjoon out of his misery for a moment. Startled, he looked up at Yoongi with red, bleary eyes. 

 

Looking at Namjoon now, Yoongi was suddenly very certain of his feelings. The conversation he’d had with Key back at the hospital about being closer to Namjoon than most friends ever became…that look from Mama Kim telling him “that’s what love is”…his day with Jia, which had reconnected him with all the things he hadn’t had time to think about until now…it call came converging onto itself and he was positive…he was in love with Namjoon. 

 

Yoongi gave him a gentle, gummy smile, and tenderly wiped the tears off his cheek with the edges of his fingertips. When he was done, he held Namjoon’s face in either of his hands. He sobered his expression and gazed into his eyes with vulnerability. “There is nothing in this world that could make me stop loving you.”  
Namjoon blinked at him for a moment, completely unsure of what to say. 

 

Yoongi bit at his lip and looked away for a moment but Namjoon caught him softly under his chin and pulled his gaze back to him. He reached up and gently carded his fingers through Yoongi’s hair, holding him lightly by the nape of the neck. They stared at one and other, hearts racing out of control in either of their chests.  
Yoongi couldn’t stand it any longer. Slowly, he crawled into Namjoon’s bed and lowered himself gently on top of him, their lips nearly touching, their breathing already erratic in the silent air around them. Yoongi closed the gap between them with an exhale and soon, their lips were together, moving along in a rhythm they both seemed to know already. 

 

Namjoon leaned into the kiss, gripping the back of Yoongi’s neck more firmly than before and guided him onto his back. Without missing a beat, he straddled the smaller man and deepened their kiss, running his long fingers through his hair, then down to his side, searching for Yoongi’s hand.

 

Yoongi laced his fingers with Namjoon’s and the tears pricked at his eyes again as he held the warmth of Namjoon’s hand against his own.

 

Namjoon leaned off him and stared down at him with concern. “Did I hurt you?” He wondered.

 

Yoongi bit at his lips and shook his head no before pulling Namjoon back to him. He kissed him deeply and regripped his hand tightly in his own. When he leaned back onto the pillow he sighed. It was Namjoon’s turn to wipe his tears away. 

 

“Please don’t cry,” Namjoon whispered, gently stroking Yoongi’s temple. “We don’t need to cry anymore.” Despite the puffiness of his eyes Namjoon had never looked happier. 

 

Yoongi took in a shaking breath and looked away. This was all extremely overwhelming for him. It had been so long since he’d been touched the way Namjoon was touching him. Not just fingertips to skin or hands embracing or lips moving together but actual connection. He could feel the love radiating out of Namjoon’s body and into his. It felt like he was coming to life again. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi mumbled. “I just…had no idea it would be like this…” 

 

Namjoon smiled and re-laced their fingers together, unable to say even a single thought that raced through his mind, all of them full of more happiness and excitement than he ever thought possible. 

 

Yoongi reached for Namjoon again and pulled him back to his lips, hungry for more. 

 

Namjoon gently stroked the side of Yoongi’s head as he lavished him in slow, gentle kisses. Each one, seemed to deepen Yoongi’s breath, like he was genuinely taking in oxygen for the first time in years. Namjoon knew how delicate Yoongi was, how much he needed to be cared for how much he needed someone he could trust. Namjoon knew he was probably the only one on earth who could give those things to him. The responsibility of it was tremendous but he gladly accepted it.  
Similarly, Yoongi knew that Namjoon was extremely vulnerable. He wanted to bide his time and be careful with him. Yoongi playfully brushed Namjoon’s hair off his forehead as he came up for air.

 

Namjoon smiled and gently moved his hands down the nape of Yoongi’s neck and lightly brushed his fingertips along his collarbone. 

 

Yoongi shivered and Namjoon slowly followed the trail with his lips. He laid soft, barely there kisses on Yoongi’s beautifully pale skin. He lingered at Yoongi’s collarbone for a moment, brushed it lightly with the tip of his nose, his breath spreading hot and damp along the exposed skin. 

 

Yoongi tried to fight the tiny moan that escaped his lips but lost the battled as Namjoon gently began sucking at his delicate skin. One hand still clasped in Namjoon’s Yoongi’s other hand curled desperately against the fabric of Namjoon’s t-shirt. 

 

Namjoon smiled into Yoongi’s skin, enjoying the gentle torture just a bit too much. He decided to be nice and stop before he left any serious marks on him, but he was proud when he saw the pinkness of Yoongi’s skin.

 

He smiled down at Yoongi, playfully, and looked at the work he’d just done, as if asking for permission to do something else…something more.

 

Yoongi looked down at his own skin and gave a small smile. Without missing a beat, he leaned up and gently slipped his hands up Namjoon’s shirt, feeling at his hipbones with ravenous fingers. Namjoon’s smile widened and he easily slid his shirt off in one fluid motion. Yoongi smiled back and slid out of his shirt as well, flinging it to the ground. Both shirtless and breathing wildly, Yoongi placed his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders and flipped him onto his back, taking on his chance to straddle him with confidence. 

 

Yoongi had never been more terrified in his life but his body seemed to know what to do despite the fear. He ran his hands up the length of Namjoon’s long torso, feeling his soft, warm skin under his hands. He leaned over him and coyly, devilishly, began sliding his tongue along the edge of Namjoon’s left nipple. He’d known, for a while, that this spot was one of Namjoon’s most sensitive areas. 

 

Namjoon clenched the moment he felt Yoongi’s tongue gaze his skin. Perhaps Yoongi wasn’t so delicate after all. He was already going in for the kill. Namjoon bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming out, but, he too, failed and let out a low moan as Yoongi gently bit and sucked at his skin. 

 

“Is everything always going to be a competition between us?” Namjoon asked with bated breath when he could no longer stand Yoongi’s retaliatory torture. 

 

“Mhhhmmmm,” Yoongi said, mouth too busy to give a verbal answer. 

 

Namjoon let out another involuntary moan. He couldn’t stand being defeated like this. With clear intent, he regained control over Yoongi and flipped him on to his back once more. He gave him a mischievous smirk and slowly, deliberately, ran his hand down the length of Yoongi’s inner thigh, stopping just short of his crotch.

 

Yoongi blinked up at him, trembling all over.

 

Namjoon read the fear in his eyes and drew back, slightly. 

 

Yoongi quickly reached for his hand and guided it straight back down. He pressed Namjoon’s hand into him and gave him a small nod.

 

Namjoon leaned in and went back to giving Yoongi those long, sensual kisses, only now, the palm of his hand was slowly messaging Yoongi through his pants. 

 

Yoongi unhinged from their kisses as tiny moans escaped him beyond his control. He blindly reached out for Namjoon’s crotch and found it with ease, already half hard.

 

Namjoon groaned at the feel of Yoongi’s hand lightly cupping and groping him. He massaged Yoongi with more pressure and deepened his kisses until both of them were moaning uncontrollably. 

 

Namjoon pulled away first and, trying to catch his breath, locked gazes with Yoongi who was swallowing hard and trying to right his breathing. Wordlessly, he grabbed Yoongi’s entire ass from behind and tucked his fingers into the waist of his pants, gently tugging at the material. A flash of nervousness crossed his gaze. He was shaking more than ever but wanted to communicate to Namjoon, somehow, that he wanted this more than anything. 

 

Also wordlessly, Yoongi unbuttoned his pants and helped Namjoon slide them off. They fell to the ground with a definite thud that made them both smile, though Yoongi’s nerves made his falter first. 

 

Namjoon saw this and gently pulled the covers around them, hoping it would make Yoongi feel less exposed; more secure. It seemed to have a positive effect but Namjoon took a few extra minutes to try and calm Yoongi by running his fingers through his hair and gently laying kisses on his nose and cheeks. 

 

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispered tenderly into Yoongi’s temple. 

 

Yoongi closed his eyes and nuzzled into Namjoon, resting his head on his collarbone for a moment. He knew their relationship had already crossed the line. There was no way either of them could go back to being “just friends” now. He was terrified of what he had already done but his body and his heart urged him forward. This felt right in a way he couldn’t explain. His only real fear was that he wouldn’t be good enough. It had been a long time since he’d been intimate with anyone; his first time being intimate with someone he loved as much as Namjoon. He just didn’t want to fail. He took in a deep breath and gently laid kisses of his own on Namjoon’s skin.  
“I want you,” he whispered, nearly breathless. 

 

Namjoon smiled and softly moved his hand down to Yoongi’s hip bone. With a light motion, he slipped his fingers under the band of his boxers and tugged them down. 

 

Yoongi reached up and quickly undid Namjoon’s pants as well. 

 

Soon, they were both exposed, skin to skin, under the covers. 

 

Yoongi took in a deep breath as Namjoon straddled him again. His heart was thudding mercilessly against his chest. 

 

Namjoon gently cupped the side of Yoongi’s face and gave him a reassuring smile. He knew he needed it; a reminder that this was still him. He didn’t need to be afraid. 

 

Yoongi smiled back, feeling slightly more at ease. Once Namjoon saw this, he slowly made his way down, until he disappeared under the covers. Yoongi’s pulse thrummed at full speed and he found his fingers already wrapped tightly in the sheets, bracing himself. 

 

Tenderly, Namjoon took Yoongi into his mouth and slowly sucked on him. Small, teasing licks at first, then further and further down his shaft until Yoongi was completely enveloped in the warmth of his mouth. 

 

Yoongi gasped, raking his teeth hard against his lower lip, but his fingers were no longer desperately clutching the sheets. The moment Namjoon’s mouth was around him, an indescribable sense of trust and comfort washed over his entire body and his nerves were replaced with rapturous pleasure. Despite being more exposed and vulnerable than ever, Namjoon’s warmth held him in place and he felt himself relaxing into him. 

 

Namjoon moved his mouth slowly up and down in torturous treks, trying hard to contain his own pleasure at the moans he was eliciting from overhead. He pushed his hands lightly into Yoongi’s hip bones, rocking him in a steady motion until he could feel Yoongi was just on the edge. He pulled away and crawled back up from under the blankets, laying a trail of kisses along Yoongi’s pulsing stomach muscles and up to his nipples. 

 

Yoongi arched his back under the gentle sensation, every touch now magnified under his newly bloomed sensitivity. As Namjoon pulled himself back over top of him, he reached out his for him and connected with his hardness. Yoongi gently cupped his hand around him and pulled his grasp up and down along Namjoon to that same rhythm they both seemed to understand and Namjoon wound his trail of kiss and gentle bites all the way back up to Yoongi’s neck. 

 

Namjoon’s breath quickened under Yoongi’s rhythm and he lingered at the hollow of his ear for a long moment, trying to catch his breath. Yoongi lavished in the warm blanket of Namjoon’s exhales that spread across his exposed skin and quickened the motion of his hand, moving it with more firmness and pressure along the entire length. 

 

Namjoon released a long, hard moan as he collapsed into Yoongi’s neck. He bit down into the smaller man’s flesh, trying to quell himself.

 

Yoongi let out a moan of his own, relishing in the sharp burst of pain. He moved his hand even faster, hoping for more. 

 

Namjoon delivered, half out of his mind, half willing victim of Yoongi’s sudden game. He found a new trace of skin along his neckline and gently bit down, letting out a languid moan into his flesh.

 

Yoongi shivered under the heat and his hand lost its rhythm just long enough for Namjoon to grab either of his wrists and pin them to the sheets. Namjoon slid his hands up the length of Yoongi’s wrists and locked his fingers around his. He slowly moved his mouth up to his earlobe, nipping delicately at the sensitive skin there. 

 

“Are you ready?” He whispered into his ear.

 

Yoongi swallowed, hard. He was suddenly aware, once more, of his thundering pulse. He felt safe with Namjoon but his body couldn’t seem to catch up to his heart.

 

He wanted to be with Namjoon; wanted to feel him inside his body; but he was so nervous he thought he might be sick. Was this all happening too fast?

 

 _Of course not, you idiot. How can waiting 18 years be “too fast”?_ Yoongi had to tell himself.

 

Yoongi came to his senses and gave Namjoon a small nod. 

 

Though he nodded, Namjoon noted the worry that still filled Yoongi’s eyes and re-gripped his hands in his own. 

 

“Talk to me,” he whispered quietly. “Tell me what you’re thinking. If you’re not ready, we can wait…really…” Namjoon nuzzled Yoongi’s jawline with his nose, ready to cuddle if that’s what Yoongi decided.

 

Yoongi closed his eyes, breathed in Namjoon’s scent. Sweet vanilla and pine with a hint of salt from the sweat on the nape of his neck and the dried tears on his cheek. This was a smell he knew; a smell he loved; a scent that always came to greet him and bring him through his darkest hours. How much time had he spent wrapped in Namjoon’s arms before this? How many moments, perhaps far more intimate than this one, had they shared over the years? 

 

Countless. 

 

Why should he be so afraid now? Did this physical act matter so much more than anything else they had done together up until now? 

 

“I’m okay. Just, stay with me…like this…for a minute.” Yoongi whispered. He nestled against Namjoon, breathing him in once more. As he did so, he not only felt comforted but hungry for Namjoon’s closeness. 

 

Namjoon held Yoongi close to his chest, eyes closed, breathing still falling out of line. 

 

“Okay,” Yoongi said, confidently, after a moment or two. 

 

Namjoon lifted his head off of Yoongi’s chest and ran his fingers along his hairline, catching his gaze for a moment before giving him those slow, gentle, comforting kisses once more.

 

After a few pulses passed between them, Namjoon lifted himself up off Yoongi and reached into his suitcase. He pulled out the essentials; condoms and lube.  
Yoongi propped himself up on his elbows and smiled innocently at Namjoon who was, of course, always prepared for anything, even at a stranger’s house. He was amused that this habit of his extended even to his sex life. 

 

“I see it’s a full pack,” Yoongi teased him, happy to finally be at ease.

 

Namjoon tore off the wrapper with his teeth and spit it out across the room. “I bought them two days ago out of boredom,” he admitted. 

 

Yoongi laughed and lightly smacked him on the chest, letting his fingers rest on his beautifully sculpted muscles. He’d never been attracted to anyone more in his entire life. 

 

Yoongi held his hand there for a moment before Namjoon started sliding the condom on. Yoongi moved to help him. Namjoon moved his hand with Yoongi’s for a moment before uncapping he lube. Things got sticky in a hurry but Yoongi continued to be amused and excited as things progressed. 

 

“You need some too,” Namjoon said, his voice dripping with mischief as he smeared some of the lube onto his fingertips.

 

Yoongi felt his heart wallop in his chest as he realized what Namjoon was implying. “O-okay…” 

 

“Lean back,” Namjoon instructed in a calming voice that made Yoongi want to obey instantly. 

 

Namjoon bit at his lip which was cocked into a half smile. One of his dimples peeked out against his smooth white cheek. Once Yoongi was laying on his back, Namjoon leaned over him once more and bent down low and close to his ear. “I’ll be gentle,” he whispered tenderly.

 

The next few moments were a blur. Yoongi felt pain as Namjoon entered him with his fingers but he didn’t want it to stop. He let out a guttural moan and tried to regain control of his breathing as Namjoon stretched him out with his lubed fingers. 

 

Namjoon placed his free hand, palm down over Yoongi’s stomach, trying to comfort him. “Just breathe,” he mumbled into his ear, gently moving his fingers inside of him. 

 

Yoonig let out a strangled gasp, his whole body suddenly drenched in new levels of pain and ecstasy he never thought possible. Namjoon moved his hand off of Yoongi’s stomach and ticked his way down to Yoongi’s groin, firmly holding him, now moving both his hands in quick syncopation both inside and outside of him body. 

 

Yoongi could hardly stand the torture. His whole body tensed, his veins stood out beautifully against his pale skin and the volume of his breathy moans reached new decibels. Namjoon teased him a bit longer, feeling himself getting harder and harder with every one of Yoongi’s attempts to breathe, before gently pulling away.  
Yoongi fell back against the sheets, panting, eyes unfocused, mouth slightly ajar. He brought his hands up over his face and carded them through his hair. He was teetering dangerously close to the edge of the most intense orgasm of his life and Namjoon knew, diabolically, just how to make him wait for it. Yoongi held his hands in his hair for a moment, until he felt Namjoon smiling into his neck again.

 

“Should I make you wait just a bit longer?” He growled darkly. 

 

Yoongi found the strength to grab Namjoon by the hips and pulled him into his body. “If you do…you’ll be sorry…” he whispered, a moan still lingering on his breath.  
Namjoon let out a soft bite of laughter and bit at Yoongi’s earlobe. He had no idea how much he’d enjoy teasing him like this. He relished in the knowledge that he could, finally, elevate Yoongi’s ultimate satisfaction and comfort to new heights; he could finally reach him. 

 

Yoongi wasn’t willing to be so patient. He let out another deep moan, his breath falling into ragged bursts as he felt his climax pulsing painfully inside of him, dangling off some unknowable edge. Namjoon was so close. All he had to do was…

 

Namjoon felt Yoongi take control of him. With hungry hands, he guided Namjoon’s cock into him. Pleased with Yoongi’s sudden confidence, Namjoon slowly pushed himself inside. 

 

Yoongi’s breath broke apart into a moan that screamed half pleasure and half pain. He hungrily grabbed at Namjoon’s backside and pulled him into his body; their rhythm synching up instantly as Yoongi thrust his hips forward.

 

Namjoon’s breathing quickened as he slid in and out of Yoongi’s tightness. He’d never felt anything as beautiful as this moment and he realized, suddenly, that Yoongi had been right. He thought he’d been in control until that very instant but Yoongi knew better. He knew Namjoon would feel tight inside of him; that no matter how much experience the younger man had had, Yoongi’s body would be his ultimate playground. 

 

Unable to stand the intensity of their exact synchronization, Namjoon leaned forward into Yoongi’s stomach and sucked at the skin on his hip bone, again, trying to stifle the moans building up in his chest and throat. Yoongi arched his back, relaxing into Namjoon who was wrapped so closely in and around his body that he could feel him pulsing from all angles. 

 

Namjoon continued to pump himself slowly, forcefully into Yoongi, rivulets of pleasure and phrenzy rolling up through his entire body, settling along his abdomen and thighs; elevated by Yoongi’s erratic breathing, his gentle, sugary moans that deepened with every thrust.

 

“I’m…” Yoongi’s voice cut out and gave way to an urgent moan but Namjoon knew. He was close to the brink himself. “Faster…” Yoongi instructed him, half out of his mind. 

 

Namjoon didn’t need to be told twice. He pumped himself into Yoongi harder and faster than he thought Yoongi could endure but on the contrary, Yoongi embraced him, their hips nearly melting together as their heavy breathing reached a new fever pitch. Somehow, Yoongi managed to gain control of himself and, devilishly, slid his fingers into Namjoon from behind. He moved his fingers inside of him, propelling him forward, deeper into himself. 

 

Namjoon coughed out a loud moan, clearly surprised and invigorated all at once. He braced himself on the bed, either of his hands clutching and twisting into the sheets by Yoongi’s shoulders. “Fuck,” he panted into the air. “More,” he growled. 

 

Yoongi made quick work of his fingers. Pushing them in and out to the same euphoric pace as Namjoon’s hips. For a few long and rapturous moments, the two lost themselves in their rhythm, Yoongi fading in and out of reality, literally about to explode with pleasure, Namjoon nearly withering from pure adulation under Yoongi’s touch. 

 

Yoongi’s breathing dissolved into desperate moans, harder and faster, echoing through the room out of his control. He was so close, Namjoon could feel him tighten around him, elevating his own pleasure. He managed to untangle one of his hands from the sheets and wrapped it around Yoongi’s cock massaging him up and down wanting to double his final gasps of pleasure. 

 

Yoongi was fully out of his mind and body as Namjoon held him in his grasp. His breath came out choked, his heart was beating on another plane of reality. He had tumbled over the edge and was now free falling into the intensity that sang out from every last one of his nerve endings. He let out a final, erratic moan into the air before cumming in Namjoon’s grasp. A few moments later, Namjoon tightened inside of him. He pumped himself one final time and let out a strangled moan of his own, before falling, breathless, onto Yoongi’s heaving chest. 

 

Yoongi couldn’t catch his breath. The orgasm rolled around inside of his entire body, pulsing and flitting from one end of his anatomy to the other. His moans came tumbling out into the electrified air, one after another. He had to shut his eyes to stop the room from spinning. 

 

Namjoon pulled out, discarded the condom, and slowly, weakly crawled up the bed to lay next to Yoongi. He took the shivering, heaving man into his arms and pulled him into his chest. 

 

Yoongi curled into him, aching for Namjoon’s warmth, thirsty for his continued touch. He took in a deep breath, full of that same, wonderful, familiar scent that belonged only to Namjoon, and breathed out through his lips. Namjoon’s heart hammered out a beautiful symphony against his ear and slowly brought him back to reality. 

 

Namjoon held Yoongi tightly and panted sweet nothings into his hair as he gently stroked his back. “Shhh, I’ve got you.” He assured Yoongi who still struggled for composure in his arms. He held him there for countless minutes, relishing the way their skin created such beautiful warmth against one and other.

 

Yoongi allowed himself to feel small and vulnerable in Namjoon’s embrace and, eventually, his warm whispers descended over him and he was able to calm down. As Namjoon’s fingers gently grazed his bare skin and the rhythm of their breath melded into one soothing wall of white noise, he realized that he hadn’t felt so relaxed in perhaps all his life. Everything he’d been holding onto so furiously; all the stress and anxiety and grief and anger and worry drained away under Namjoon’s embrace and, soon, fatigue bared down on him. Exhaustion tugged his eyelids shut so firmly that he had to surrender. Before he could fully feel his pulse fall back in line, or right his breath in his lungs, Yoongi was fast asleep.


	32. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my user name again because I'm an insane person. I'll probably change it again tbh. Also, I thought this was going to be the last chapter but this story keeps asking to be expanded and I'm just kind of going with it lol. Anyway...enjoy! :)

Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jia left the Nojiri house 2 days later. Aside from being eager to get back home and start living normal lives again, Yoongi was almost 100% sure Mr. Nojiri had heard everything. The morning after their heated love confession, Mr. Nojiri’s warmth and cheer toward them had significantly diminished. So, to be safe, the two of them had remained on separate floors at night. Both of them agreed it was weird, at best, that they had consummated their relationship in a complete stranger’s house and thought it would be better to continue things in a more private place. 

 

Regardless of what the Nojiris may have heard, they sent them off kindly with a nice dinner and gifts. 

 

The three of them arrived back in Daegu late in the evening, all of them exhausted and covered in airplane cabin film. As the darkness of the hour settled around them, Yoongi found himself leaning into Namjoon’s arm for support and clutching Jia tightly to his chest.

 

Yoongi had been acting strange since their night together. Though it should have been a happy time for them, Yoongi’s demeanor seemed to be growing darker by the day. He hadn’t smiled in days and his face looked like it was permanently furrowed with anxiety. 

 

Namjoon wasn’t any stranger to PTSD. He thought he might be suffering from a good dose of it himself but the ay Yoongi was acting defied logic. For someone who had just been kidnapped and beaten by a pair of convicts, Yoongi was acting like he was the one who was guilty of something. He apologized to Namjoon for random, inconsequential things and clung to Namjoon as if he were afraid the younger man would suddenly take off and leave him. Namjoon really couldn’t work out what was bothering Yoongi so much. He could only hope that things would change once they got back home. 

 

Feeling Yoongi’s hands clapsed around his arm as they walked they walked from their taxi to the front door of the apartment, however, didn’t inspire much hope. Despite his concerns, he slung his arm around Yoongi and pulled him close to his side. 

 

“It’s okay,” Namjoon whispered gently into Yoongi’s hair. “We’re almost home.”

 

Yoongi nodded. He was silent as those last few steps toward the door. 

 

By the time they finally made it through the doorway, Yoongi was covered in a cold sweat and shaking from head to toe. His breathing came in shallow bursts. 

 

Namjoon guided him to the couch and ordered him to sit. Namjoon tried to wrestle a sleeping Jia out of Yoongi’s arms but he couldn’t seem to let her go. 

 

“Yoongi, seriously, what’s been up with you these last few days? Did we came back home too soon? Are you still worried someone is out to get you?” Namjoon took wild stabs in the dark, slightly out of breath. He was unable to hide his concern. 

 

Yoongi dry swallowed and shook his head no as he buried his face into Jia’s hair. 

 

“Then what’s the matter?” he asked, trying to be more empathetic than frustrated.

 

Yoongi stayed still for a moment, eyes closed. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” 

 

“You’re terrible at lying,” Namjoon said bluntly. He looked at Yoongi, trying to analyze his face for some unspoken message. “Is it because of what we did…?”

 

“No!” Yoongi was quick to respond. “No…” he parted his face from Jia but still held her tightly in his arms. His eyes had become two bottomless pools of sorrow. “I just have a lot on mind right now.”

 

“Then talk to me, please,” Namjoon’s eyes were dripping with worry. He grabbed Yoongi’s hand and held it lightly in his fingertips. “I love you…I miss seeing you happy.”

 

Yoongi gently pulled away from him and cast his eyes to the floor. “I really have to get Jia to bed.”

 

“Don’t be like this!” Namjoon pleaded with him. 

 

“It’s late, Namjoon, please. I just want to go to sleep.”

 

“Is this about Jiyun?” Namjoon guessed one last time. 

 

Yoongi physically baulked at the mention of Jiyun, as if her very name had seared his flesh to the bone.

 

Namjoon could see the visceral reaction and quickly tried to regain control. "All I mean is...you collapsed because you weren't talking about her. You kept it all in and it made you sick...I just don't want it to happen again."

Yoongi felt like he couldn't breathe. The pain of her memory sent him onto his feet and he walked out of the room and down the hallway, Jia in his arms, without another word.

 

Namjoon groaned behind the shield of his hands and sunk into the couch cushions. Were they already having their first major fight as a couple?

 

_Just my fucking luck_ , he thought. 

Namjoon laid in his bed, unable to sleep. This really wasn’t how he envisioned his first night back at the apartment. He could feel his balls turning a horrible shade of blue and half thought about jacking off when he heard the door creak open. A warm pool of yellow light flooded into the blue dark of the room. 

 

He sat up on his elbow and watched Yoongi pad across the room before crawling into bed next to him. 

 

The smaller man snuggled up in the blankets and curled into Namjoon’s chest. Still, he didn’t say a word. 

 

Namjoon didn’t know how to respond.

 

Yoongi figured as much and gently pulled him down onto the pillows. He pressed a warm kiss into Namjoon’s lips, holding the side of his ribcage in a gentle clasp. Yoongi pulled away after a few seconds but Namjoon chased him; pulled him in for more. 

 

Their breaths deepened as their lips moved together in that same, metered synchronization that neither of them could explain. Their bodies simply knew how to harmonize. All the tension they had been holding in over the last two days was almost more than either of them could take and their hands were hungry for each other. 

 

Namjoon greedily slipped his palms up and down Yoongi’s warm, smooth abdomen, finally settling around his hip bones. He pulled him into his body as if Yoongi were his first sip of water in weeks. 

 

“Wait,” Yoongi moaned. He had to use every muscle in his body to stop himself from continuing. He wanted nothing more than to be consumed by Kim Namjoon but he needed to say something first.

 

Namjoon obeyed and fell backward on the pillows, his head dizzy with excitement, his eyes trying to find Yoongi through their haze. 

 

Yoongi unsaddled himself from Namjoon’s hips and leaned back into the pillows beside him. “This isn’t why I came in here.” 

 

Namjoon groaned. “It’s not?”

 

Yoongi let out a small sigh and shook his head no. He pulled away and sat up with his knees darn to his chin. “There’s something I need to tell you but I don’t know how. I’m afraid you’re going to hate me.” 

 

Namjoon felt all his excitement drain from him. He felt weak and cold and slightly nauseous. He was genuinely worried now. “You can tell me,” he assured Yoongi gently. 

 

“It’s so bad, Namjoon. Honestly, I’ve been sick to my stomach trying to figure out how to say this but I can’t go another night without you knowing the truth…about everything.” His eyes were gaining more and more depth as he spoke. Namjoon could literally see the cracks within him. “I have so much to tell you and I’m so fucking scared I’m going to lose you once it’s all out there.”

 

Namjoon sat up now and quickly scooped up Yoongi’s hand into his grasp. He was surprised to feel it shaking against his fingertips. “I will never leave you, Yoongi. Don’t you remember the day I made that promise to you?” 

 

Yoongi nodded into the tops of his knees and brushed a few tears off his cheeks. He pulled his hands away from Namjoon and into his long pajama sleeves. It was the closest he could get to hiding as he readied himself to tell Namjoon one of his deepest, most painful secrets. He couldn’t stand to be touched by him in that moment. He didn’t feel deserving of any type of comfort. 

 

Namjoon, though frustrated with the constant rejection, waited patiently, concern etched into his features as he watched Yoongi shrink into himself. 

 

There was a moment of ever-expanding silence that seemed impossible to fill when, suddenly, Yoongi was speaking and a torrent of words that seemed far too big for the room, came tumbling out.

 

“Jia…and Jiyun…aren’t my children…” Yoongi was out of breath just saying the words. They came out hot and strident, like freshly sharpened knives.

 

Namjoon’s mouth fell open, unhinged independent of his body. It felt like his soul had left his body entirely. He couldn’t speak. 

 

Yoongi ran the back of his pajama sleeve over his eyes which were now rapidly filling up with tears. He sniffled before continuing. “I wanted to tell you…fuck…I’ve wanted to tell you for years but I couldn’t…it was all so complicated and now…now it really doesn’t matter because everything is going to shit…and I just...I’m so sorry, Namjoon.”

 

Namjoon knew Yoongi was speaking words into existence but he could only hear them in slow motion. It took him ages to comprehend even a single one. His mind raced backward in time to the last encounter he’d had with his father that night on the Nojiri’s balcony; the night he’d revealed to Namjoon that Jia wasn’t Yoongi’s child, how he had derived pleasure from how much pain it caused Yoongi to admit such a thing. 

 

Namjoon had been convinced his father was just making up stories to hurt him but now…seeing Yoongi in such devastation…he couldn’t deny that it was all the truth.  
“I…I…” Namjoon stuttered. His mind had lost the ability to produce words for the first time since his infancy.

 

Yoongi shivered under his mop of dark hair. His nose red, his cheeks glistening with endless tears. He looked so incredibly small and scared Namjoon couldn’t bear to keep his hands off him but he couldn’t stand to be rejected again. 

 

Yoongi finally righted his breath enough to continue speaking. “Sunhee was pregnant before I met her. She’d been with this guy who worked with me at Sindorim Café when we were teenagers. Kim Seokjin. I always liked that hyung. He helped me out a lot when I first started and he was always winning soccer trophies with his team. I remember when he announced to everyone at the café that he was going to Yonsei University for college. I was so proud of him; prouder than I was of my actual brother.”

 

Namjoon vaguely recalled Yoongi prattling on about some kid a year a head of him at school when they were teenagers. Namjoon couldn’t entirely remember but he was sure he’d blocked it out because he was jealous of the faceless boy Yoongi admired so much.

 

“Anyway, one day, he confided in me that he got his girlfriend pregnant. He was so worried that having a kid would ruin his chances at going to Yonsei and becoming a Criminologist.”

 

“So you covered for him?!” Namjoon broke through. 

 

Yoongi sniffled and looked at Namjoon with puffy eyes. “We were stupid ass teenagers back then, Namjoon. We didn’t think any of this through. All I knew was Seokjin actually had a shot at being somebody and I was just some punk ass kid without any dreams. Also…” Yoongi’s cheeks turned scarlet. “It was around that time that my dad found some…questionable…porn in my room. I needed to save myself from getting beaten to death. I figured the beating for getting a girl pregnant would be much less severe than the beating I’d get for being gay.” 

 

“I always thought it was weird how suddenly Sunhee came into your life…” Namjoon said, his anger breaking slightly as an age old mystery had finally been resolved. “But you seemed like you were in love…”

 

“I think I was, in a way…” Yoongi shook his head. “That baby that eventually became Jiyun…she gave me the opportunity to be someone else. She gave me a chance to think outside of my own, desperate situation. I loved Sunhee because she protected that future and with Seokjin out of the picture, we really did become lovers for a while…but it didn’t last long, as you know.”

 

“When she got pregnant with Jia, things really changed,” Namjoon concurred.

 

“I obviously knew there was no way the baby could be mine. We’d only slept together a few times, when Jiyun was still a baby. Jia was conceived years after that. At first, she thought it was Choi’s baby. She told me everything about breaking her arm and the way he had attacked her in his office. After Jia was born, however, we found out the baby was Seokjin’s. Sunhee was still in love with him after all that time and she had been seeing him in private. We all decided that it was best to pretend like Jia was mine too; to keep the act going.”

 

“You were living in my house that entire time…lying right to my face…my dad was right. He told me everything. Was I the only one who didn’t know?” Namjoon felt his face flash hot with anger and betrayal.

 

Yoongi’s cheeks turned pinker still. He couldn’t look at Namjoon. “We had to keep it a secret, especially as the girls got older, to protect them. I didn’t tell anyone besides your parents but every day, Namjoon, _every day_ , it killed me to know I was lying to you.”

 

“Then why did you do it? You could have told me! You could have trusted me!” 

 

“I did it because I also saw the way you loved them and the way they loved you back and there were so many times when I thought that would be enough. It was perfect. What do bloodlines matter when that kind of love exists?” Yoongi was sobbing now, unable to control the course of his voice. “I’m so sorry, Namjoon. You’re the only person I wanted to tell. You’re the only one I wanted to talk to about everything…especially when Jiyun died…”

 

It was Namjoon’s turn to baulk. His entire body seethed with hurt and fury. How could Yoongi have lied to him like this for so many years? About something so damn important? He felt like he was suddenly alone in the universe; everything was a falsehood. 

 

“I was going to tell you the night she died but your dad stopped me. He said it would just make everything worse.” 

 

“Fuck him!” Namjoon shouted as he slammed his fists into the bed. 

 

Yoongi buried his face in his hands and shuttered with sobs. 

 

“Haven’t you thought about Jia at all?” Namjoon demanded, his head going in splintering directions. “Her life has been one giant pile of shit this past year. Do you really think she needs this kind of information right now? I mean, isn’t that why you kept this from me, to protect her?”

 

Yoongi wiped his eyes and looked up at him, defeated. “I don’t have a choice,” Yoongi sobbed. “Seokjin saved my life…all of our lives…spending time with Jia is what he wants in return.”

 

“Wait…what the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Seokjin is the detective who worked on Choi’s case,” Yoongi mumbled quietly. “The thing is…I knew your dad had it in for me. Not only did I expose Choi for who he was by helping Key, I then made you quit med school and turned you gay,” Yoongi paused to let out a dry laugh. “Part of the reason I freaked out at the hospital that night was because I knew your dad was planning something that would hurt all of us. I couldn’t stand being that vulnerable. Luckily, Seokjin was already a few steps ahead. He approached me the next day and explained everything.”

 

Namjoon blinked, unable to fully comprehend any of this.

 

“Long story short, Seokjin needed me as incentive for Key to be more willing to go into Choi’s house and cause enough of a distraction. He didn’t think Dr. Jung’s kidnapping would be enough incentive to get Key into that house.”

 

“So he used you again?!” Namjoon had no idea where to place his accumulating fury. It was practically choking him. "He used you to make Key horny for justice?!"

 

“It wasn’t like that,” Yoongi insisted. “I wanted to help. We hadn’t talked in years. I saw how genuine he was; how much he really wanted a family. This whole mess with Choi was personal for him too. He’s having another baby with her. He just wants to protect them.”

 

Namjoon knew he needed to blow passed the Choi portion of Yoongi’s revelation. That was a different conversation they would need to have all on its own. Instead, he zeroed in on Jia. “Do you realize that you are going to mess up her entire life.” 

 

“He’s he biological father. What am I supposed to do?!” Yoongi demanded. His face carried every inch of grief, guilt, and frustration a human face could hold. He looked truly helpless. 

 

Namjoon took a deep breath, willing his nerves to steady and his anger to quell. It was clear to him that Yoongi had never meant to hurt him or anyone else with such a huge lie. He made a stupid decision when he was a stupid kid. Who on earth hadn’t been guilty of the same at some point in their lives?

 

Namjoon reached out for Yoongi again, though he still feared he may be rejected. 

Yoongi didn't pull away this time and Namjoon took his tiny, shivering body into his arms and laid him down gently on the pillows. Once they were both tangled up in each other, Namjoon carded his hand through Yoongi’s hair until he calmed down.

 

“We’ll figure this out together,” Namjoon promised him.

 

“Seokjin wants to see her soon,” Yoongi sniffled into Namjoon’s T-shirt. “As soon as this weekend, maybe.”

 

“You don’t have to say yes.”

 

“Maybe not now, but soon…eventually…Sunhee will be found mentally ill and then all the paternity rights will go to Seokjin. I’ll have no say in what happens to Jia. It’ll be like losing Jiyun all over ag—” his words were cut in half by a sharp, ripping sob. 

 

Namjoon felt a lump forming in his throat but he pushed it away as he slowly ran his hand up the length of Yoongi’s spine with gentle fingertips. “Shhhh, deep breaths, Yoon. We don’t have to figure any of this out tonight. Just relax for now. You’re exhausted.”

 

Yoongi shivered, even against Namjoon’s warmth. He couldn’t decide what he was feeling anymore.

 

"I know that was hard to do. Thank you for telling me," Namjoon whispered into his hair. "I love you so fucking much." 

It was barely noticeable, even to himself, but Yoongi felt the smallest of smiles form through the tears.


	33. Through the Gates (The End)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, the last chapter :') I can't believe I spent two months writing this. There were a shit ton of plot holes and lazy editing and a million other things wrong with this but it was just for fun and I hope you all enjoyed it too. I'm already working on my next fic which will be Jikook-centric with way more smuttiness since this fic, sadly, lacked a lot of Jimin and Jungkook. Anyway, thank you so much for reading/giving feedback/kudos it means so much to me <3

Seokjin stood on the edge of the soccer field, the tails of his long black coat fluttering in the wind. His hands were stuffed in either of his pants pockets and he glared through the harsh sunlight, out at the wide, open expanse of land that made up Dalseong Park. 

 

Yoongi hung back for a moment, utterly terrified to approach him. He felt as if every step toward Seokjin was one step closer to the end of his life. Being Jia and Jiyun’s father had been the only thing that had given him any real meaning. To think it could all end this abruptly was almost more than he could take. The pair had agreed to meet privately and alone without significant others or Jia getting tangled up in what could become a very messy situation.

 

Yoongi took a deep breath and forced his feet forward. Seokjin spotted him almost instantly and waved him over, his smile gentle and bright as the sun above them.  
He lifted his hand up to wave back and as he did, he caught a glimpse of his pale wrist peeking out from the sleeve of his bomber jacket. It had been weeks since Yoongi had purposefully gone out in the sun. His gleaming white skin seemed to reflexively refract the light back into the sky. He could feel it bouncing off him as if it had weight. 

 

The two were finally face to face. Up close, Yoongi could see that Seokjin hadn’t lost his boyish charm from when they were younger. His cheeks were rosy, and wind whipped and the set of his wide, almond eyes made his amber irises sparkle in the sun. He hadn’t even said hello yet but Yoongi could easily read his friendly and intelligent body language. Looking at him now, Yoongi was reminded why he wanted to help his hyung so much.

 

“You’re looking well,” Seokjin said with a polite bow. 

 

“Getting there,” Yoongi offered with a bow of his own. 

 

“I haven’t been on this side of town in years,” Seokjin admitted, looking out at the assortment of park benches, swing sets, and water fountains. “Being back here makes me feel like a little kid again.”

 

“It’s better than never leaving,” Yoongi pointed out. “Should we go find somewhere to sit?” he suggested. 

 

The two made it to a pavilion that housed a busted wooden park bench and sat down. Yoongi had so much he wanted to say. The night before he’d even stayed awake early into the morning, trying to put it all on order but it was no use. He’d just burned through valuable hours of sleep and came away with the same, daunting conclusion that had been haunting him for years: eventually, Seokjin would want them back and there would be nothing he could do.

 

Though Yoongi had been raising the girls, Seokjin provided for them financially over the years. He even footed Jiyun’s entire medical bill. A court wouldn’t exactly accuse him of total abandonment. Yoongi knew he had a losing hand. Despite Seokjin’s winning face and pleasant demeanor, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel that he was at Seokjin’s mercy. 

 

“I guess there’s no point in dragging this out any further,” Seokjin reasoned as he leaned forward. “We need to talk about the girls…both of them.”

 

Yoongi dry swallowed and shook the hair out of his puffy eyes. He’d cried himself to sleep in Namjoon’s arms nearly every night that week, dreading this day. “I know. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

 

“Yoongi…I’ve been thinking about it too. It’s a long shot and I’m not even sure if a judge would agree to it but…how do you feel about me signing my parental rights over to you?”

 

Yoongi blinked at him. 

 

Seokjin let out a small burst of laughter. “I’ve never seen a more shocked expression.”

 

Yoongi couldn’t speak.

 

“Look, I’m already going to be in over my head when the new baby comes. It doesn’t make sense to drag Jia away from you, just to introduce her to a home full of pure chaos. You’ve been doing an amazing job with her…just like you did with Jiyun…I don’t see any reason why we should fix what isn’t broken.”  
Yoongi smirked, unable to believe Seokjin had put him out of his misery so quickly. “You do realize that I’ve never had any idea how to raise them, right? I’m just winging it most of the time…all of the time…”

 

“Spoken like a true father,” Seokjin clapped him on the back. He gave off the air that he was much older than the year that separated them in age. “I guess I’ll be in the same boat pretty soon, after Sunhee has the baby.”

 

It suddenly struck Yoongi that he didn’t know what happened to Sunhee or Choi after he escaped from the house that day. “What’s up with them, anyway? Did Choi actually poison himself to death?”

 

Seokjin shook his head no. “Unfortunately, he got an Epi-Pen to the thigh just in time. It would have been unethical for me to stall the paramedics any longer than I did. He was in ICU for a day and discharged into a jail cell. His bail is far too high for anyone to be stupid enough to pay it.” 

 

“And Namjoon’s dad?” Yoongi found himself asking before he could stop himself. “What about him?”

 

“I can’t say much but there is a good chance Namjoon may never see him again.”

 

Yoongi’s chest ached upon hearing those words. He steeled himself and promised to be ready for the time when Namjoon would need a shoulder to cry on. That day would be coming sooner rather than later. 

 

“So what does this mean? Are things just going to stay the way they’ve always been?” Yoongi asked, trying to get move the conversation forward. “Jia stays with me and we all live happily ever after in Daegu?”

 

Seokjin leaned back, turning his face into the wind. “I think we can both agree that’s ideal.”

 

“But?” Yoongi challenged. Seokjin’s tone was unsteady.

 

“But…can anything ever really be same again? One day, Jia might have questions. Sooner than that Namjoon’s father will be sentenced. Even sooner than that Key is going to rebuild the café…it never really ends.” 

 

Yoongi could agree with that. “Have you talked to Key at all?”

 

“Recently?” Seokjin tilted his head. “No. He seems pretty busy lately.”

 

“So he’s not blowing me off…” Yoongi concluded, folding his arms across his chest. He’d been trying to contact Key since he got back to Daegu but his phone kept going to voicemail. They hadn’t spoken in nearly a month and Yoongi was starting to worry that Key had forgotten him entirely. 

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Seokjin assured him. “If you really want to meet up with him, though, rumor has it he’s been spending a lot of time with Halmi Kim.”  
Yoongi blinked for a moment, not fully comprehending Seokjin’s implication, when it suddenly hit him. 

 

“The graveyard?”

 

Seokjin nodded. “I visit Halmi Kim sometimes myself. He was there cleaning her head stone the first time I went so I decided to give him some privacy. When I went back the next day, he was there again…the next day too. Finally, I decided to join him. He told me she’s giving him good advice about how to rebuild the café,” Seokjin let out a small laugh. “It would be funnier if he didn’t actually believe it. I think he’s going a little crazy.”

 

Yoongi nodded and tried to smile behind the nausea that was gathering in his own stomach. Jiyun was buried in the same cemetery as Halmi Kim. He hadn’t gone to visit Jiyun. Not once. He couldn’t. He knew it would be his undoing and he had to prioritize. He could fall apart for an afternoon visit with Jiyun or he could keep her quietly in the background of his thoughts and still function as a father to Jia and a partner to Namjoon. He couldn’t do both. 

 

Seokjin seemed to understand this predicament and cleared his throat to bring Yoongi back to reality. He seized the opportunity to say something that neither of them had really spoken about. “I know it’s not the same as you…the relationship I had with Jiyun…but since I started going to her grave…I don’t know…there’s been this wave of catharsis that’s washed over me that I can’t explain. It’s like she’s there…waiting for all of us…to fix us…”

 

“Stop, please,” Yoongi pleaded, his arms now tight around his abdomen. He found it strange that he could talk about Jiyun with Jia all day and though it still made him sad, it didn’t cripple him. Sometimes, it even made him feel better. With Jia, talks about Jiyun were like swapping fairy tales. As despondent as he was when Jia would make up stories about Jiyun coming back to be with them, Yoongi found himself easily lured in by the same rhetoric. It hurt less if he kept his imagination open.

 

_Maybe she really could come back…_

 

It was a completely different story when it came to discussing Jiyun with a fellow adult. It made the situation far too real. There was no room for fantasy. He had to face the fact that she wasn’t coming back…no matter how much he ached for it. 

 

Seokjin took in Yoongi’s posture carefully. He wanted to show him mercy but he knew it would be much more merciful to make him face this awful, painful, ugly thing that had him pinned down with grief. He’d watched from afar, for too long, just how devastating the effects of it all had been and he felt unbelievably guilty. If it weren’t for him, Min Yoongi would never have suffered so miserably. 

 

“Yoongi. We can’t have a talk about the girls and then leave one of them out,” Seokjin reasoned. “I know we all have to deal with Jiyun in our own way but I’m asking you…no…begging you…please visit her. Just once. Take Namjoon if you need to…”

 

“Seokjin...” Yoongi’s whole body felt like it was being constricted by thousands of tiny rubber bands, each one cutting off his circulation with more defiance than the last. His face was burning hot but he refused to cry. He knew Seokjin was right. He had to see her. 

 

Seokjin sighed and decided to stop pressuring him. “I guess I really have no idea what it’s like to be a father.”

 

Yoongi didn't know how to tell him, but he had it right. It was Yoongi who was still learning the right lessons. 

 

A few days later, Yoongi woke up to the sound of Namjoon’s snoring. 

 

“Ugh this shit again,” he grumbled at the ceiling. “Yah! Wake up!” He sent one of his fist lightly into Namjoon’s bare arm and playfully crawled on top of him so that either of his legs were straddling his hips and their chests were pressed together. He stared into Namjoon’s face until his eyes opened. 

 

“Ah!” Namjoon let out a bark of surprise as he slowly began to comprehend his surroundings. 

 

Yoongi laughed and landed a kiss on his cheek. “Good morning. Were you having fun rattling the walls?”

 

“Good morning indeed,” Namjoon smiled devilishly as he lightly ran his hand between the junction of their legs. “You’re going to say you couldn’t sleep because of my snoring but I think you have bigger problems.”

 

Yoongi leaned into Namjoon’s hand, letting him explore his morning stiffness for a moment. They dissolved into a long session of slow, sleepy kisses until Yoongi rolled off of Namjoon and onto his back.

 

Namjoon tried to hide his disappointment as Yoongi pulled away. It had been like this between them since they got back from Japan. They still hadn’t slept together again, despite sharing the same bed and being physical in nearly every other way. Namjoon didn’t want to force him into anything. He knew they were both still pretty emotionally raw after everything. Still, he was worried. 

 

Namjoon laid down next to Yoongi and played with his hair, trying to find his gaze. He wanted to be with him so badly.

 

Suddenly, Yoongi spoke. “Will you come with me to see Jiyun?” he didn’t, or rather, couldn’t, look at Namjoon as he made his request. 

 

Namjoon blinked. “Uh…yeah, of course,” he stammered. “Are you sure you’re ready? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go alone?”

 

“I don’t know,” Yoongi sighed, bringing his hands up to hide his face. “I want you to come with me but maybe just…wait in the car or something? No…wait at the gates…no…come all the way if you want to…or just…fuck…”

 

“Min Yoongi are you asking for help?” Namjoon teased him with a small, dimpled smile. 

 

“I think I am,” Yoongi laughed at himself. “God, I’m terrible at this.” 

 

“Ah, well, you make up for it in other ways,” Namjoon said, tracing his finger along Yoongi’s exposed collarbone. 

 

Yoongi flinched and rolled over, socking fake punches into Namjoon’s chest. 

 

After sending Jia off to school with big hugs and kisses, Namjoon drove them across town to the cemetery. On the way there, Yoongi felt unnervingly calm and even had the words to say so to Namjoon.

 

“It feels like we’ve always done this,” he remarked quietly. “Like this is part of our daily routine.”

 

“It can be, if that’s what you decide,” Namjoon offered. He didn’t think it was the right time to reveal that he had been to Jiyun’s grave often, especially in the days after their return home. He’d even had a few talks with Key who also happened to be a frequent visitor. 

 

As he sidled the car up a big hill and put it in park, he looked over at Yoongi who was nervously fumbling at the lap band of his seatbelt.

 

Namjoon helped him by pressing the seatbelt button and they both watch as the thick, grey ribbon relayed backward with a dull metallic click.

 

“Thank you,” Yoongi said. His voice was unsteady now. 

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Namjoon reminded him quietly. He took one of Yoongi’s trembling hands into his own. 

 

“I do,” Yoongi mumbled. He had given this a lot of thought since his talk with Seokjin and he had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, ready. He just needed his body to cooperate. 

 

“Together or alone?” Namjoon whispered. 

 

Yoongi sighed. That horrible tightness was threatening to suffocate him again. “Alone,” he stated bravely. 

 

Namjoon gave him a gentle smile and lifted the back of Yoongi’s hand to his lips. He gave his knuckles a soft kiss and lightly ran his thumb over his skin. “I’ll be right here.”

 

Yoongi nodded. His whole body was buzzing and hollow as he made his way out of the car. He lingered outside the door for a moment, looking up at the cast iron cemetery gates in front of him. They looked evil and inviting all at once. He held onto the edge of the car door and closed his eyes, trying to orient himself.  
Namjoon watched him attentively, anxiety ridden over how difficult this was for Yoongi.

 

Suddenly, Yoongi folded himself back into the car. Namjoon only had a brief moment to question what he was doing before Yoongi, somewhat forcefully, grabbed him by either side of his face and pulled him in for a kiss. 

 

Namjoon melted into Yoongi’s lips, gently carding his fingers through Yoongi’s hair.

 

After a long moment, Yoongi pulled away but kept his nose and forehead pressed into Namjoon’s. He was breathing softly but his exhales were ragged.   
Namjoon gripped him lightly by the nape of his neck and gently ran his fingers over his skin. “You can do this,” he assured him quietly. “It’s going to be okay.”  
Yoongi nodded, his forehead and nose still snug against Namjoon’s. He closed his eyes, took one final deep breath, and bolted out of the car and into the cemetery before he lost his nerve. 

 

During Jiyun’s funeral, small cards with a prayer and a picture of an angel had been handed out. Yoongi didn’t know who had made them or when but along with the prayer and the picture was the location of Jiyun’s headstone. Namjoon’s parents had paid for the entire funeral but Seokjin insisted that he be the purchaser of the headstone. Yoongi had had no part in any of it; everyone insisted that he had already done his job and that he should rest. Part of the reason why he hadn’t gone to see Jiyun was because he felt like her final affairs were none of his business. As he neared her headstone now, he could see and feel just how utterly wrong he had been. Just seeing her name… _Min Jiyun_ …made him weak.

 

He nearly stumbled the last few paces forward until, finally, his hands connected with the stone. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, bathed in the early morning sunlight from above. The winter was finally thawing and he realized, with great comfort, that he could feel the first signs of spring on Jiyun’s name; a gift from her to him…a much needed reassurance that she was still there, somehow. 

 

“Jiyun-ah,” Yoongi called to her. “Thank you for such a warm hello…even though I don’t deserve it…I made you a promise at the hospital but I broke it a thousand times…appa is so sorry, Jiyunnie…I was still hiding until now…” He felt his jaw quiver as the pain in his chest built to agony. He pressed his hand harder into the stone, longing to be reassured by the warmth that lived there. 

 

As soon as he felt it spread through his hand, a sob tore through his chest. He sank to his knees, his tears hitting the ground before he did. He bent his head into his hands and shook with sobs. He cried so hard and for so long he thought he might get sick but when he finally came up for air, he felt better. No, he felt alive. 

 

He’d been crying non-stop since Jiyun got sick. For more than a year his face was red and puffy and raw with salt from all the tears he’d cried and never, not even once, had he felt better afterward. Now, somehow, sitting beside Jiyun’s warmth, knees soggy from laying in the muddy grass for so long, body exhausted from his purge of emotions, he suddenly felt lighter than air. 

 

Slightly out of breath, he ran the back of his sleeve over his tired eyes and felt the corners of his mouth lift into a shaky smile. He lightly traced her name with the tips of his fingers, recalling her beautiful, vibrant face. “I don’t want to hide anymore,” he whispered to her. “Can I come back and see you more often? I promise I won’t cry so much next time.”

 

He waited, as if she might actually respond to him. Though he was only greeted with silence, he delighted in the comfort that was now spreading through him.   
He stood up after a long moment, his lung wonderfully raw with the feeling of fresh air rushing in and out of them as he walked. He was almost back to the gates when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned around.

 

“Min Yoongi,” Key’s smiling face greeted him. He wore a brown turtle neck under his yellow tartan peacoat and carried a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He looked incredibly healthy; glowing, even.

 

“Key. Seokjin said I might see you here.”

 

“Did he?” Key blushed. 

 

Yoongi tilted his head in confusion at Key’s reaction. 

 

Key shook his head as if to blow past the moment. “I’m glad to finally see you here,” Key said. “Soekjin told me about your daughter. I bet Halmi Kim is taking good care of her when we’re not looking.”

 

“I’ll bet she is,” Yoongi sniffled, suddenly aware that his face must have looked dreadful. He lightly pounded his palms into his cheeks to break up the swelling.  
“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Key reassured him. “I’m the same most days…especially lately.” 

 

“Seokjin told me you’re rebuilding the cafe already. It must be stressful handling it alone…” It was only after Yoongi had spoken the words that he realized how awkward it was to be having this conversation. 

 

Key nodded and kicked at a small pebble under his shoe. “But I’m not alone…right?” Key turned his face up at Yoongi and gave him a winning smile.   
Yoongi understood what Key was implying. “If we’re still in this together why haven’t you been returning my calls? I haven’t even had the chance to thank you properly for everything.”

 

“I was waiting to see you here,” Key said simply. 

 

“Huh?” Yoongi tilted his head again. “What do you mean?”

 

Key smiled and looked around at the bright morning sky, He seemed to be readying himself to reveal something big. "We both ran into this café thing way too quickly. I should have dealt with Halmi Kim’s passing before I ever even set foot in that building. I could only realize that after the café was physically gone and I had nothing else to distract me. Once I started saying goodbye to Halmi Kim…really saying goodbye…that’s when I knew I could focus on the café again. I thought…if that’s how it was for me, maybe you needed to do the same. As much as I came here every day to talk to Halmi Kim, also came here to look for you.”

 

Yoongi took in the information in slow chunks and nodded. "What would you have done if I never showed up?"

 

Key shrugged. "I wasn't worried about that."

 

Yoongi felt himself smile. “I’m here now. So what’s next?” 

 

Key laughed and slung his arm around his shoulders. “Come say hi to Halmi Kim. We have a lot to discuss.”

 

“Wait,” Yoongi said, smile still plastered on his face. “We have a third business partner, you know. If this is a staff meeting, Namjoon should be here too.”

 

“He’s here?” Key asked, looking around. 

 

Yoongi nodded, trying to gauge Key’s reaction. When they made eye contact it was clear that they were both thinking the same thing. 

 

Key was the first one to break the tension. “I knew you two would end up together. It was a long shot for me to think I had a chance,” he ran a hand up the back of his neck and ruffled up his hair. “I promise it won’t be weird. I have someone too, now so…”

 

Yoongi immediately connected the dots. The way Key had blushed at the mere mention of his name not five minutes earlier, had given it away. “Seokjin?” 

 

Key blushed again. “Go get Namjoon!” he ordered him, unable to hide the radiant smile on his face.

 

Yoongi beamed back at him for a moment before heading off to get Namjoon.


End file.
